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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414085">Monster Among Ghouls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondtheskyline/pseuds/beyondtheskyline'>beyondtheskyline</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Creatures &amp; Monsters, Everyone makes an appearance/cameo, F/F, John Gaius is still a dick, Some gore in later chapters, Totally not inspired by monster high, vampire harrow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondtheskyline/pseuds/beyondtheskyline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harrow stared at the golden eyes, her mind filling with a warm buzz and melodic hum. Her brain was a massive generator, constantly writhing and whining, but those beautiful eyes melted through like lava, reducing her to a drooling, staring moron. The glasses were replaced, and the buzzing cut off. </p>
<p>Harrow looked over to Cam who was pulling on her stitching, a nervous habit she supposed. “Wow,” was all she could say.</p>
<p>Cam cocked an eyebrow, the exposed bolt on her neck sparking a bit with the action. “See what we mean? She didn’t even look at you and you were caught by it.”</p>
<p>“What is she?” Harrow asked, her voice returning to its normal ice. </p>
<p>Cam seemed to pause at that. “Gideon is just, incredibly powerful.”<br/>------<br/>Harrowhark is a vampire, but that’s never been an issue before. Until a group of humans attacked her, beating her bloody. Now her parents have decided being in the general public isn’t safe, and they’re sending her to a special boarding school for ghouls. Zombies, gorgons, and more inhabit the halls of Canaan High. So does the headmaster’s mysterious and beautiful daughter. So does endless mystery, and dark secrets that should probably stay dead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Canaan High</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is totally not a Monster High AU; not at all. I’m joking, it totally is. This is probably the shittiest AU to ever shit, but I can’t get it out of my head so I’m subjecting you all to it as well. Also, I wanted to jump on the vampire Harrow trend and this was my solution. I hope you enjoy! The total amount of chapters will probably change, depending on how long I screw around with the ‘school’ aspect before I get to the mystery part.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrowhark Nonagesimus stood before the grand steps leading up to the doors of Canaan High. The place didn’t look half bad, with its cracked windows, decaying flora, and gothic architecture. Pools of grey, murky water surrounded the building like someone had tried to make a moat then got bored. Her black bags sat beside her feet on the concrete ground, and she awkwardly looked around, unsure what to do. The headmaster was supposed to meet her here, but the whole place was silent. Silent, decrepit, and, quite frankly, very dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Movement flickered in front of her. She braced herself for a ghost to materialise, but instead the air shimmered with iridescent colors. The movement formed a wall before her, and Harrow debated sticking her hand out to touch it. Before doing so, a man—completely human looking—stepped through. The air parted for his body, forming around him and bathing his body in an ethereal light. He wore a crown of leaves and bones on his head, which was stylish in Harrow’s opinion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be Harrowhark,” he said cordially with a bright smile. “I am John Gaius, the headmaster of Canaan High.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook his outstretched hand briskly, feeling a small magnetic tug in the back of her brain. Ignoring it, she said, “It’s nice to meet you. What is going on with the air?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back at the shimmering wall behind him then laughed. “My apologies, I forget not everyone has seen a shield before. This is how we keep humans from trying to cause trouble within our school.” He stepped back through the air, being absorbed into it, and vanished from view. Harrow hesitated, then stuck her head through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other side was filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>life! </span>
  </em>
  <span>The barren courtyard burst into view with students walking along the suddenly bright lawn and bubbling pools. Some were sitting on the steps which suddenly had a creamy shine to them, the railing no longer rusted to hell and back. Others moved through the open doors and into the opulent halls of the school, sunlight glistening through the cracked crystal windows. Harrow gasped and pulled back, her vision returning to the grey and dismal outside. It was a perfect mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her total of three muscles, Harrow hauled her three bags through the barrier and into the courtyard. John Gaius smiled with pride at her shocked expression. “Humans tend to be too curious, so some protective measures had to be taken.” Harrow didn’t mind; the word humans left a sour taste in her mouth still. Even though the attack had been months ago, she still bristled when she felt a human draw near. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is magnificent,” Harrow managed to get out. The small praise was enough for the headmaster who motioned for her to follow him up the steps and to the doors. Harrow’s black robes dragged on the ground as she walked, and she grappled at them with one hand so as not to trip on the steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That fabric is so three centuries ago!” Exclaimed a voice from below her. Sitting there, legs splayed across the cream and opal steps, was a golden woman with curls piled so high on her head she looked like a mannequin. She smiled up at Harrow with the radiance of someone who knew they were hot and expected you to agree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow already didn’t like her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s three centuries old so you aren’t wrong,” she deadpanned. The woman beamed sunlight (ick) and extended an obscenely long arm with a jeweled hand at the end. She was draped elegantly in gemstones, gold, and purple fabric. Bandages as golden as her skin were wrapped over her forearms as well as her neck and legs. Harrow shook the hand quickly, uncomfortable with the sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh don’t worry darling, they’re decorative!” The golden creature laughed upon seeing her expression. She flapped the bandages and shimmers of light were thrown about, and Harrow swore she also saw glitter. “Purely because they make me look the part!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The part of what? A chandelier?” Everything this woman was wearing looked like it belonged in a museum. Her outfit was a light and airy dress of purple and (of course) gold with jeweled sandals and an absurd amount of cleavage showing. Even her earrings cost more than everything Harrow’s family owned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She received another laugh. “The part of a queen, darling! Coronabeth Tridentarius, undead daughter of Cleopatra. Pleased to meet you!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow stepped back suddenly, staring at the mummy with equal parts curiosity and fear. She’d never met a child of the Nile before. Her town had such a dismal ghoul population; she wasn’t sure the proper etiquette for addressing royalty. “Uh, I’m Harrow,” she said quickly. “I’m a vampire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coronabeth’s eyes burned with the power of someone who had never been denied a damn thing in her life. They were inhumanely purple, which just added to her royal air. “Oh a bloodsucker! We have quite a few of those back home. Not as interesting, no offense of course.” Harrow nodded, taking full offense, and moved farther away from the smiling mummy. “I do hope to see you around, vamp!” She called as Harrow made a hasty retreat up the stairs to the doors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do not call me a vamp, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she seethed, but didn’t vocalise. Who knew what kind of charms and spells Coronabeth had up her bandages. John Gaius was grinning like a dope back at her. “The Tridentarii are an interesting sort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s more than one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes! Corona has a twin named Ianthe. Trust me, Corona is the nicer of the two.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside the entry hall students moved about, some heading to classes with arms full of books while others perched on window ledges chatting with friends. Harrow was dazzled by the amount of color in the otherwise decrepit school. Flimsy cloth hung on the windows, casting rainbows of light over the marble floor and large staircase leading upstairs. Statues bedazzled with precious rock guarded said staircase as well as each hallway on the ground floor. Harrow was tempted to pull her hood up and hide from the multicolored eyes that fell on her as she followed John Gaius across to the stairs. She was a black knife carving through the sea of color, and she already hated it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The headmaster stopped before two figures who Harrow thought were statues for a second. They were the only ones not wearing an inordinate amount of color, and they stood stiffly together, heads bent over a book. “Harrowhark, meet Camilla Hect and Palamedes Sextus,” John Gaius announced. “They have offered to show you around and help you get acquainted at our school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two people were wearing all grey up to their necks. The woman—Camilla she assumed—had short brown hair chopped neatly at her chin. Even her eyes were colorless—dark as dirt, which Harrow liked. Palamedes had a nerdy pair of glasses on and eyes as grey as the cloak he wore pinned neatly to his neck. They were both holding backpacks filled with books, each one the same stormcloud grey. Camilla extended a hand stiffly. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice near monotonous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow shook, skin tingling from the amount of physical contact she was putting it through. Her eyes flickered to Camilla’s exposed section of skin as she pulled back the hand, taking note of the stitches neatly running around her wrist. Not stitches like you’d get from an injury, but stitches that seemed to be holding her hand to her arm, pinning the skin together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” she said awkwardly. Was the universe determined to make her meet a million new kinds of creatures today? “No offense, but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla smiled thinly and the duo both pulled down their shirts from their necks to show shiny silver bolts stuck to the sides of each. “The fabric is waterproof,” Palamedes said, voice easily more alive than Camilla’s. “So we don’t zap anyone if water gets on us. These mechanisms are highly advanced, but you can never be too careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow felt absurdly crude as she said, “You’re recreations of Frankenstein’s monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla shrugged. “More advanced, but yes. Creating children in a lab has been in our family for generations; it’s really not much different than humans and genetic engineering.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a bit different,” Palamedes countered. “If we were the same thing I don’t think humans would find us appalling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow snorted. “I understand that.” She peeled back her lips and showed her fangs. “Once they see the teeth suddenly I’m dangerous.” Camilla and Palamedes both nodded in understanding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take Harrowhark up to her room,” said John Gaius, who Harrow had forgotten was there. “Then show her around to where her classes will be.” Then to Harrow, “I do hope you’ll be happy here, Ms. Nonagesimus.” With that, he walked off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow followed Palamedes and Camilla—who quite frankly, were incredible feats of scientific creation—up the stairs and down the hall to the left. The windows vanished and instead the space was lit by electric torches mounted on the walls. Running along the whole space were doors on either side with names printed on them. Her eyes caught ‘Tridentarius’ on one and she grimaced. She felt bad for whoever ‘Tern’ was, the name for who they shared a room with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her guides stopped at a door almost to the end of the hall. Her name was the lone one on the door and she breathed a sigh of relief. On one side was another door with the lone name ‘Nigenad’ and on the other side were the names ‘Chatur’ and ‘Tettares’. “We’re right across the hall,” Camilla said when she saw Harrow checking out who the neighbors were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this place really as good as it claims to be?” Harrow asked. “Is it really a safe haven for people like us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Palamedes said—his voice was incredibly gentle and human sounding compared to his partner’s. “Headmaster Gaius makes sure we live in a secure and safe environment. We’re allowed to venture into the human world too, as long as we’re careful. I’ve gone a number of times to the library in town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Against my advice,” clipped Camilla. She was cautious; Harrow respected that. “The headmaster said you had a bad history with humans,” she continued. Great, she was curious; Harrow hated that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but who doesn’t?” Her response was thankfully enough and no further questions were posed as she pushed open the door to her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a vampire’s dream room. The ceiling went higher than Harrow thought it would, arching up into a circular area with beams stretching across. She could stretch her wings up there even on rainy days. The windows had black paint on them, masking the sunlight coming through to less painful levels, but she would still wear her robes. Everything was either rich brown wood or black metal, including the large bed with velvet blankets folded gently at the foot. It all screamed Victorian, and she was very appreciative. “I like it,” was her only verbal comment. She dropped her three bags on the floor and the impact threw dust up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ortus Nigenad is your neighbor to the right,” Palamedes said, not crossing the threshold; another thing Harrow appreciated. “He’s a vampire too, although he acts as though he’s a human playing one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have associated with vampires of all kinds my whole life,” Harrow said as she observed the beamed ceiling again. “I’m very much aware of how annoying we can be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you turn into a bat?” Camilla asked suddenly. A spark of life came into her voice as well. “Ortus refuses to,” she added, as if to prove her question had a purpose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I can.” Both the lab monsters seemed to light up, and Harrow swore Palamedes’s bolts let out a quick shock of electricity. She was quite surprised; vampires were so common in the ghoul community, and so varied in powers, that people stopped caring about the specificities of any they ran into. “Would you like to see?” She offered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes nodded quickly—Harrow briefly feared his neck stitching would tear—but then stopped and composed himself. “If you’d be so kind. May I take notes? I have a collection of studies on different subjects and their powers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So being a scientist is a genetic trait for you,” Harrow replied, to which both creatures laughed. Well Camilla snorted, but that seemed to be her version of a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took off her robe and let it lay on the floor, closing her eyes gently. She stretched her limbs, becoming aware of how her skin flexed across her bones and muscles, how her blood flowed from veins to arteries, how her lungs expanded and her heart twitched. She compressed those feelings down, mentally picturing herself shrinking, contorting. Her limbs filled with a fuzzy static and her bones molded themselves into new shapes as she kept compressing. When Harrow opened her eyes, the fuzziness was gone and instead her blood was roaring in a new pattern around her now small body. Her arms, well now they weren’t arms, stretched out and unveiled black wings. She flapped up from the ground and circled the room once, the wind rushing past her fur. She let out a short screech as she came to a stop at the door. Camilla and Palamedes were watching her with wide eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fascinating,” the man said, taking quick notes in a thick notebook. “I’ve only ever read about the transformation, but getting to see it happen is incredible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow flapped back to her cloak, wanting to test out flying around those beams, but not wanting to be watched while doing so. She landed on the fabric and buried herself into it before closing her eyes and redoing the process. Account for bodily functions, expand outward, feel her body twist and grow back into limbs and flesh. She shook the static from her limbs and head as her body reformed into the robe. “So you’ve never met another vampire who could transform?” She asked, her voice high and squeaky still. She cleared it a few times hastily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never met another vampire besides you and Ortus,” Palamedes said, still taking notes. “Cam and I spent our whole lives in the lab. Being here at Canaan, we’ve been exposed to so many other kinds of ghouls. It’s incredibly helpful to my research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of exposed,” Camilla said in a gruff whisper. “Let’s let her get dressed.” Harrow gave a brief nod of thanks as the two moved aside and shut the door, their voices hushed whispers as Palamedes continued taking notes. She slipped out of the robe and redressed in her long sleeve shirt and pants, all black of course. The one reason she hated transforming was losing her clothing when she turned back. Once her boots were laced back on and her robe in place, she stepped out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And nearly ran into two teenagers who were dashing down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!” The one—a girl—called back, her wild brown hair flying around. She continued down the hall after the other teen, each of them wearing long navy blue cloaks. Harrow also instantly noticed the short brown ears each of them donned on the heads, mostly because each one was punctured by about a dozen earrings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those two need to go to the gym if they want to run around,” Camilla said sternly. Palamedes had finished scribbling in his book and was nodding in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Werewolves I’m guessing?” Harrow asked, happy she finally recognized a creature in this place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Jeannemary and Isaac,” Palamedes said. He angled his head to the door to the left of Harrow’s. “They’re your other neighbors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh joy.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Harrow was led back down the hall and the stairs to the main floor. Palamedes explained that the upstairs was all living quarters and the main level was for classes and other rooms such as a library and cafeteria. Harrow was incredibly interested in the library, but first she had to endure the rest of the tour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cafeteria was first and it looked like any other school cafeteria. Tables in various shapes and sizes were set up in a surprisingly colorless room with large windows making up the far wall. Some students were milling about in there, some sitting and talking and others surrounded by books and papers. Harrow didn’t like the social feeling of the place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next they passed by classrooms. Some were full and others were empty. One particular one had the door opened and Harrow saw rows of desks leading down to where a rather disgruntled ghost was floating around, pointing at the display of an eyeball labeled ‘Gorgon’. Her peach hair was flying erratically as she moved, the rest of her body eerily pale. “This is the cornea, you infants!!” She shrieked, and Harrow wondered if she was part banshee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anatomy with Professor Mercymorn,” Camilla said dryly as they passed. “It’s hell.” The exhausted screech of the ghost followed them past a few more classes until the hall rounded and they came upon glass doors. Looking through, Harrow saw her least favorite thing in the world: a gymnasium. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The floor was so shiny she could already hear the squeaking of sneakers against it. The electric lights overhead buzzed loudly and illuminated all the dastardly torture devices the place held. Including treadmills, balls, and weights along the back wall. “I’m hoping this class is an elective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish,” said Palamedes, obviously as against physical activity as Harrow was. “Pyrrha and Gideon are intense and dedicated to fitness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he spoke, Harrow watched a rather imposing man cross the gym, making sure everything was in its proper place. “That’s Gideon I suppose?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s both of them,” said Palamedes. At Harrow’s confused expression he elaborated, “Are you familiar with the story of Jekyll and Hyde?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well in this case it’s Gideon and Pyrrha.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So—so they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> in there?” Harrow motioned to the body that was moving about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Camilla answered shortly. “Pyrrha’s nicer, but not by much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They moved away from the gym and the dual-personalities who inhabited it. The hall was mostly empty of students as they circled around the whole school, passing more and more classrooms. Harrow glanced out one of the windows and looked across the green field acting as a courtyard to a dark tower rising a couple feet from the edge of the school. “What’s that?” She asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the headmaster’s tower,” Camilla said. “Students aren’t allowed over there.” It looked relatively boring anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally they came to the place Harrow was most excited for: the library. The doors were made of dark wood and Palamedes pushed them open with a flourish. The inside was dark and ancient looking, which made Harrow want to jump around in joy. Bookshelves reached up to the ceiling and there were dark tables with yellow lamps spread around. The floor was crushed velvet carpet that left a rich smell in the room. Chandeliers of the same warm yellow color cast rays of dark light—if that was even possible—over everything, and the windows were covered by black curtains. Harrow was in love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is my favorite place too,” Palamedes said. A rush of cold air came upon them and Harrow flinched as a ghost whizzed past carrying a handful of books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watch it,” it—or he—snapped, with an improbably deep voice. His long white hair was braided over one shoulder and he wore chainmail over his body which clinked as he flew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rude,” Harrow said once the spector had gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Silas is always rude,” Camilla hissed, obviously familiar with the spirit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring the unpleasant encounter, Harrow wandered around the library a bit, picking out random books to examine. They were of various ages, some being more modern while others were leather bound with ancient paper inside. The modern ones were mostly sciences and history while the ancient ones were literature from various countries. Harrow was eager to read through every single one. Palamedes and Camilla both seemed at peace in the library too, and a small part of Harrow hoped she’d keep running into the duo. They seemed like reasonable people, and most importantly didn’t see her as just some boring vampire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Cam! Sex Pal! What’s up?” A loud voice appeared from the yellowed darkness of the room. Harrow peered around the corner of the bookshelf she was examining to see a woman with horrendously bright red hair sitting at a table surrounded by books. None of them were open, she noted. Camilla and Palamedes—who looked absolutely horrified at the nickname the woman had used—approached the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Palamedes asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman—a second Gideon—shrugged and said absently, “I mean probably, but I didn’t feel like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father will kill you if he knows you’re skipping again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop being a stick in the mud, Sex Pal. Dear old Dad doesn’t care </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much about me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow approached as well, intrigued as to how two seemingly reasonable people knew the obviously dim redhead. When she noticed Harrow, she quickly reached over the table and picked up a pair of retro aviators. The sunglasses were slipped on her face, much to Harrow’s amazement. Who wore sunglasses indoors, much less in an already dark room?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes noticed this too, but instead of comment he turned and motioned for Harrow to come closer. “This is Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” he introduced. “She’s new; Cam and I are showing her around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can just call me Harrow,” she said in general. Her full name was such a mouthful, having a nickname was more for convenience than familiarity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Harrow, I’m Gideon,” the redhead waved. She looked Harrow up and down. “You a vampire?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yes,” Harrow said, rather shocked. “How’d you guess that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meet a lot of ghouls. I have a knack for it. Plus you dress just like Ortus.” A clanging bell sounded overhead and Gideon instantly shot up and gathered the books into her arms. “Cam are we still on for sparring tomorrow morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as you don’t make me late for class,” the woman replied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha. Harrow, Sex Pal, adieu,” with a stupidly charming semi bow, Gideon vanished out the library door, glasses still on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s with the aviators?” Harrow asked finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla and Palamedes exchanged long looks, as if telepathically asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>what do we say? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Gideon has,” Palamedes said slowly, “an interesting ability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She looks pretty human to me,” Harrow said curtly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s true, she has no physical ghoul attributes,” Palamedes continued. “But trust me, her and her father are incredibly powerful creatures.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s her father?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The headmaster, John Gaius.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Gideon jumped down the front steps of Canaan High and crossed the grassy field to the tower she called home. As a child she’d loved pretending she was Rapunzel, trapped in a tower until a woman in knights armor came to rescue her, but she quickly realized long hair sucked and had kept it chopped off ever since. She punched the code in at the base and the door swung open, cleverly disguised as part of the wall. The spiral staircase led up and up past meeting rooms her father used for the faculty as well as the rooms for some of the teachers who were close to her father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the way up at the top was a door with a gold handle: her and her father’s quarters. She pushed inside and breathed a sigh of relief to see he wasn’t sitting at his desk. The entry room was supposed to be a living room, but it had been converted into her father’s study a long time ago. The long window along the left wall gave him a bird’s eye view of the front of the school, and he had positioned his desk right in front of it so he could always watch. He had such a God complex it wasn’t funny. Gideon dumped her backpack and books on the floor and crossed the room to the small kitchenette along the back. She searched the fridge, but upon finding nothing to eat just took an energy drink. She turned and jumped to see her father standing there. “Can’t warn a person before you just turn up?!” She barked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Augustine said he didn’t see you in class,” John Gaius said by way of both greeting and apology. “That’s the third time this month Gideon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fifth,” she corrected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her father hung his head and rubbed his eyes wearily. “What on Earth am I going to do with you child?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon brushed past and chugged a quarter of her drink, wishing it was alcoholic in some way. “His class is boring, what am I supposed to do? Would you rather I go and fall asleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“History is an important subject.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So are English, anatomy, and biology, but you don’t see me attending those either.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, why can’t you take anything seriously?” Her father was trying the whole ‘caring parent’ routine, but he had blown that a long time ago when he’d chosen to build a school instead of love his child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take a lot of things seriously,” she protested, gathering her things from the floor and heading to her room. “I take gym seriously; I take women seriously; I take myself pretty seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This conversation is proving my point exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon pushed open her door with her hip and tossed her school shit on the desk she rarely used. She turned back around to look at her father, who was wearing his ‘very disappointed’ face. Dammit why did she still give a damn if she made him upset? “Look, I’ll go to his class tomorrow, I promise. I just didn’t feel like it today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll go the rest of the semester as well,” he countered. “And if you don’t I’ll tell Pyrrha not to let you in the gym after hours anymore.” He paused as she took off her glasses and tossed them on the table with her books. “Why do you insist on wearing those things? I thought you grew out of your childish fear of your power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not scared of my power, you moron,” she snapped. They’d had this conversation in different forms so many times. “The glasses are a precaution.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t wear glasses as a precaution.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re a dick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An explosive sigh left his mouth. “It occurs to me that a lot of your social issues could be solved if you just embrace your power, Gideon.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I’ve said a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundred fucking times</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m not comfortable forcing people to be my friend by controlling their minds! Cam and Pal like me just fine, even knowing what I can do. And plenty of other people are comfortable talking to me: Dulcinea, Corona, Judi—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, you’ve always been sorely lacking in people your own age to hang out with. I’m not saying you need to constantly control every aspect of a friendship, but maybe what some people need is a little siren convincing to not be so scared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re literally suggesting I use mind control to stop people from being scared I’ll use mind control? Dad, that’s even stupider than the time you suggested I use my power to get a girlfriend!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, mouth moving as he counted to ten. Gideon was a very taxing person to talk to. “I still think you misunderstood me in that situ—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind control is not consent, Dad!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two stared each other down, which was easy because Gideon was just as tall as he was. Their eyes met strongly, and Gideon expected to feel him trying to poke into her brain, but the static of their power didn’t appear. Of all the crazy and alienating powers out in the ghoul world, her father just had to pick a siren to do it with, giving his child the most alienating power to exist. No one wanted to hang around the person who could order you to do anything they wanted. No one wanted to be friends with someone who with one long look into your eyes could control everything you thought and did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few more minutes John Gaius gave up trying to have a conversation with his daughter. “I don’t enjoy having this fight with you every time we talk. Just don’t skip class again, Gideon.” He extended his arms like he wanted to give her a hug, but she slammed her door shut. He didn’t play father for half her life, suddenly Mom dies and now he wants to act like he loves her? Hell no. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon flopped down on her bed and stared at the magazine cutouts she had taped to her ceiling. Dozens of women in various outfits from swimsuits to ball gowns, some incredibly buff and muscular, others thin and timid looking. They were all gorgeous. One of her latest additions was a girl in all black with an absurd amount of cleavage. Gideon thought of the dark robed vampire Sex Pal and Cam had with them. Her black eyes had been gorgeous, and Gideon had seen the glint of her fangs as she smiled while running her hands over the books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harrowhark,” she ran the name over her tongue. It was a cute name. She had been pretty cute. Gideon had always had a thing for vampires, and she wondered how sharp Harrow’s fangs really were. She hoped she’d run into her ag—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nope, nope, bad thought! Getting close to people wasn’t a viable option in Gideon’s world. Once you got close to people, they started asking questions. And they always asked that one specific question: ‘What are you?’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when they heard ‘siren’ she never saw them again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrow woke up the next morning at what would be considered very early. Her clock said 6 AM, which was completely normal for her. She loved a morning flight to stretch her wings before being confined in human form all day. Harrow opened the black window and sighed as the cold wind washed over her skin. The sun was hidden behind silvery clouds, its intense rays unable to burn her. Harrow laid out her clothes for the day: a simple set of pants, a long sleeved shirt, and boots (all black, duh). She picked out one of her shorter robes that fell only to her calves so she wouldn’t trip and embarrass herself on her first day. Once the clothes were laid out on her bed, Harrow began compressing her body and transforming. She twisted her limbs neatly into place and shook out her body before flapping off the bed and to the window ledge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grass was still a bold emerald green, even in the back. It stretched to the dense forest that then ran as far as Harrow could see. She leapt off the ledge and flapped through the air, feeling the breeze against her wings and fur. Harrow circled the school, dipping down to the main floor to look into the various windows. Most of the rooms were dark and empty; no one else was up yet. Harrow circled the tower where the headmaster lived, surprised to not see a door anywhere. It was probably shielded just like the rest of the school. Harrow circled the bottom a few more times before continuing her flight to the front of the school. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the courtyard below, beside one of the fancy crystal pools, she noticed three figures. Two held large metal objects and were dancing around each other while the third was sitting in a wheelchair under a lone willow tree. Harrow flapped closer and recognized Camilla Hect and Gideon Gaius instantly. Camilla had removed most of her outer robes and was in only boots, cargo pants, and a long sleeve shirt, all the same lifeless grey. Her stitching—which ran around her neck and dipped under the shirt—was on display as were her gently sparking bolts. Gideon was dressed in black cargo pants and a sleeveless tank top, displaying copious amounts of bicep and tricep. Harrow was mildly impressed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glided down to the willow and the woman sitting under it. She perched on one of the thin tendrils, claws wrapping around the soft tufts. Her body went to slip upside down, but she fought it so she could observe the weird performance before her. Her eyes trailed downwards and she was slightly startled; the woman below could have been a corpse. She was still and stiff, her skin a combination of corpse grey and deathly white. Her veins were so blue they looked like streams of ice, and her long brown hair fell in ringlets down her back, still and stiff as if it had been painted on. Her neck slowly creaked back and she looked up at Harrow, a wide smile slowly spreading over her face. Her eyes were a bold blue, a perfect reflection of the sky, and they radiated cold. Harrow had never met a zombie with blue eyes, but she would know that deathly cold stare anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello little one,” the woman cooed in an absurdly soft and light voice. Harrow couldn’t tell if that was how she spoke to animals or if it was just her zombie voice. She stretched a languid arm up to beckon Harrow down, and she begrudgingly released from the tree and flapped forwards. She refused to land on the hand and instead chose the arm of the wheelchair. “Aren’t you a friendly little bat!” The woman said cheerily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow ignored her and focused on—what she now realised was—the sparring match. Camilla had two sharp daggers in either hand while Gideon was brandishing an absurdly long sword with both. They moved around, metal clanging together loudly while Harrow watched with fascination. For as monotonous and stiff as Camilla seemed, she moved like liquid in a fight. Her limbs were loose and relaxed as she parried and dodged, feet as graceful as a dancer’s. The zombie next to Harrow raised her arms and clapped as the two women clanged their weapons again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they turned, Harrow noticed something odd: Gideon was blindfolded. The redhead had a black strap of fabric tied over her eyes, but she still moved perfectly. Her and Camilla pivoted their bodies for a few more minutes before their weapons gave a final resounding clang as they met. Gideon’s sword was thrust high and Camilla was bracing against it with both knives. Gideon was pressing down, forcing Camilla into a kneeling position. The lab creation dropped fully to the ground and let her knives be whisked from her hand by the sword. Gideon cheered triumphantly and offered a hand to help her up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re finally learning how to properly disarm,” Camilla commented as she retrieved her knives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two looked beautiful!” The zombie called, voice still soft and gentle sounding. Alright, so that is just her voice, Harrow noted. Remembering that she was still in bat form, Harrow flapped off the wheelchair as the two women approached. Camilla’s deep eyes landed on her, and a smile curled at her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello Harrow,” she said confidently. “Glad to see we’re not the only early birds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More like early </span>
  <em>
    <span>bats</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Gideon laughed at her absurd joke and waved to her. Harrow dipped closer to them and let out a small friendly squeak to affirm they weren’t stupidly talking to a real bat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The zombie let out a small gasp. “Oh you’re a vampire!” Her laugh was equal parts windchimes and frost, joyous but without life. “My apologies, I haven’t met one who could transform in centuries!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla stiffly offered her arm at a bent angle, and Harrow, tired of flapping in place, landed on it. Camilla’s shirt was thin, and her skin underneath was soft like real flesh. Harrow was immensely impressed and wanted desperately to meet whoever had built her. Gideon still had her blindfold on, but Harrow noticed the black fabric wasn’t actually restricting. It was light and a bit see through, probably only as obtrusive as those sunglasses she’d worn yesterday. Underneath, Harrow caught the faintest gleam of gold irises, and her small lungs briefly stalled. Gideon noticed Harrow was looking at her and turned away to a black duffel bag on the ground. The fabric was removed and replaced with the sunglasses, the redhead never opening her eyes until the frames were snug on her face. Harrow blinked a few times to remind herself not to stare at the perfectly red hair and decently sized muscles rippling under her skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to join us for breakfast?” The zombie asked, looking at Harrow. “We always get there early to get the best food.” She laughed again, raising one languid hand to run through her brown curls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow was never really a breakfast person, but the idea of people actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sit and talk with her overrode that. She gave an affirmative squeak and head nod before flapping off Camilla’s arm. “Meet us in the lobby,” Camilla said, and with another squeak Harrow went circling back around to her window. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She landed on the bed and within minutes her body expanded back into human skin and she was dressed in her black attire. Harrow opened up her extensive makeup kit then paused. This was a school for monsters and ghouls, not humans. There was no reason to hide underneath a coat of makeup. Her face wasn’t particularly vampire-like in the first place, but her parents had drilled the routine into her. Deep black lips to conceal her teeth, foundation slathered over points and curves to hide the death grey her skin took on when she hadn’t eaten in awhile, and of course eyeshadow painted all around her eyes to excuse their night blackness. Harrow sat contemplatively on her bed, biting at her bottom lip with her fangs. She hadn’t gone without makeup in years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow decided she’d break her habits later. She slathered on the foundation as normal, but settled on limited eyeshadow and only a small coating of lipstick. She still felt bare, so she tucked her unbrushed hair into her large hood and decided that was fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sounds of life—or in some cases </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>life—came from rooms as Harrow walked down the hall and to the stairs. Waiting in the bright lobby were the trio of women, now including Palamedes who was carrying at least ten notebooks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The answer is still ‘no’, Sex Pal,” Gideon was saying rather forcefully. She had added a nice leather jacket to her outfit, and Harrow was surprised at how disappointed she was to not have a view of her arms anymore. “You can ask me a hundred different ways and it’ll still be ‘no’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man sighed rather patiently. “Gideon, you’re always complaining how you can’t contr—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> control it!” She pointed to the glasses on her face. “See? Control!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fear,” he said plainly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I’d rather have some healthy fear than walk around my whole life with ‘what ifs’ dancing in the back of my head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes went to say something else then noticed Harrow and stopped. He brightened up a bit and smiled at her. “Good morning, Harrow. Have a nice flight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she said, far more interested in whatever conversation she’d walked in on, but the moment seemed to be over. She wanted desperately to ask about it, but the group was already walking down to the cafeteria. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow fell in next to Camilla who was pushing the blue-eyed zombie in her wheelchair. “Hello, I’m Dulcinea,” the zombie said pleasantly. “It’s so nice to meet you—Harrow, was it?” She barely had time to nod before the woman was talking again. “It’s so nice to meet a new vampire! I’m from a pure zombie community so we don’t get much variety in ghouls. Oh I have so many questions about vampires! Do you really drink blood or is that more of an old wives tale? Does sunlight actually make you explode? By the way, how old are you? Can you eat garlic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow blinked a few times, amazed at the ferocity with which Dulcinea fired the questions. “Uh well, I’m a couple centuries old; I was born in the 1400’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fascinating!” Dulcinea exclaimed. “Vampire magic keeps you young?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No actually, vampires have, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>odd</span>
  </em>
  <span> life cycles,” Harrow said, struggling the slightest bit to explain. No one had ever been interested in the nuances of being a vampire before. “We don’t age like humans do. A hundred years for a vampire is the equivalent of about three for a human.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So by human standards you’re around 17 or 18?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They entered the cafeteria which was decently barren of other people. Palamedes dropped his pile of notebooks on the closest rectangular table, sending stray papers and some pencils rolling away at random angles. “I would urge you to reconsider my offer,” he said seemingly out of nowhere, looking at Gideon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I would urge you to shut up, but we both know that’s not going to happen either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh gods, they can’t just drop a topic can they?” Dulcinea giggled, taking control of her chair and parking herself at the end of the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are they fighting about exactly?” Harrow asked, sitting on the seat near her. The now whispering duo vanished into the kitchen area while Camilla reorganized the papers. Her eyes met Dulcinea’s and narrowed the slightest bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, just the usual stuff! Pal’s research and all that!” Dulcinea said lightly. “Right Cam?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, now Harrow was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could pester again, Dulcinea said, “So tell me more! What’s the deal with vampires and garlic; poisonous or just distasteful? Do you need human blood or is any blood fine? What about mirrors; do you have a reflection? Your makeup is beautiful!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow was subjected to more vampire questions at rapid speed. After explaining the nuances of vampire dining, the burning capabilities of the sun on vampire skin, and accepting compliments on her makeup application skills without use of a reflection, Dulcinea’s curiosity seemed satiated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon and Palamedes returned carrying trays of food. Palamedes set his in front of Dulcinea and she smiled adoringly up at him. “Thank you, Pal,” she said sweetly, and the man shyly nodded. If he had blood in his veins he might have been blushing as he took a seat beside Harrow. Dulcinea’s plate was full of a jelly-like substance that Harrow desperately hoped was Jell-O. Camilla and Palamedes dove back into their notebooks, sitting across from each other, without consideration for food. Gideon had a whole plate of human food that she was devouring with passion beside Camilla. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you two not need food at all?” Harrow ventured, not wanting to leave the table lest the conversation from earlier restart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can eat for enjoyment,” Camilla answered, “but no, we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes opened up one of the thicker journals and flipped through the pages. Harrow was amazed by the amount of diagrams and notes filling the slightly crinkled pages. She was about to ask if he’d mind letting her look through his work when Palamedes got up and walked over to Gideon, holding the book in front of her face and pointing at whatever was inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve already worked out the process,” he explained vigorously. Both Camilla and Dulcinea groaned softly at his persistence. “See this is the section of your brain that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon pushed the book away. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But all we’d have to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, it’s very sim—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate to do this, Sextus,” Gideon said softly. She stood, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and twisted his body to face her, turning her own back to the group. With one hand she lifted the glasses off her face, staring Palamedes in the eyes. Harrow, Camilla, and Dulcinea watched wordlessly as Palamedes’ eyes dimmed the slightest bit and his jaw went slack. Harrow was fascinated by the sudden lifelessness of him, to the point he could have been a puppet. Gideon spoke in a surprisingly high and near lyrical voice, “Palamedes, don’t ever mention this to me again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lowered the glasses as quickly as she’d lifted them, and Palamedes wordlessly shut the book. Gideon turned back around and sat down to continue eating, glasses securely repositioned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was uncalled for, Gideon,” Dulcinea said cooly as Palamedes slowly blinked back to life. He was rubbing his head gently as he stumbled back to his seat. “He’s just trying to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he’s doing it because my Dad asked him to,” Gideon said abruptly, nearly cutting Dulcinea off. The silence at the table grew with each passing second until Gideon got up, mumbling something about wanting to talk to someone who had just entered the room, and left. Harrow watched her approach two red-clad women with ramrod straight backs; they exchanged brief fistbumps before sitting at a table together. The two wore eye coverings as well—bulky glasses with red lenses—and Harrow wondered if they were the same creatures as Gideon was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla broke the silence by saying, “Pal, how do you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes had his glasses off and was rubbing his eyes. “Like I want to strangle her. Did she really sing me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll kill her. I’m very impressed at how quickly she did it, and while I was resisting at that, but I’ll still kill her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow’s attention was divided between the conversation happening before her and the weird spectacle behind her. One of the women Gideon now sat with had undone her tightly braided hair, letting the braids fall neatly to her shoulders. She picked up a piece of food from her plate and was...dangling it by her hair?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow jolted suddenly as the braid curled upwards and snapped the food from the woman’s fingers. That wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>; those were at least two dozen black </span>
  <em>
    <span>snakes</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gorgon,” Harrow whispered, remembering the encyclopedia of cryptids her parents had forced her to memorize as a kid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Judith and Marta,” Dulcinea said helpfully, daintily wiping what Harrow </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoped was Jell-O off her lips. “Pal helped them control their stoning abilities, but Gideon’s too scared to embrace her own power to let him help her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was perfectly fine </span>
  <em>
    <span>embracing</span>
  </em>
  <span> it so I’d shut up,” Palamedes said scornfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow nodded along as both women tossed pieces of meat up to their snakes. They were conversing with Gideon like the hungry reptiles on their heads didn’t exist. Harrow continued to be impressed by the creatures around her; they were far more interesting than any human could hope to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her stomach growled, reminding her she should have a little food before going to class. With a quickly muttered excuse, Harrow got up and ventured to the kitchen to find some blood. She snuck a quick glance over at Gideon, more curious than ever about what she could do. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Water Demon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrow faintly etched the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking kill me </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the corner of her notebook as Professor Mercymorn screeched for the fifth time at a student. She hadn’t been wrong in her assumption Mercymorn was part banshee; more accurately she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> banshee. Every sentence was punctuated by at least three exclamation points as the screaming spector flew around the classroom, loudly critiquing the diagrams the students were drawing. “That’s not a circle, infant!!” She screeched at the young werewolf Camilla had called Isaac. The boy frantically erased whatever was on his paper so hard it tore. Mercymorn floated through the desk and loomed over the student’s shoulders, pure white eyes staring soullessly at each one. The description of this class as ‘hell’ had been nowhere near an overstatement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow was a perfectionist by nature, so she wasn’t worried about getting screamed at. Camilla (who had insisted Harrow call her ‘Cam’ like everyone else) seemed just as unconcerned; her sketch of the on-screen gargoyle wing diagram was pristine and without a single eraser mark. Harrow was slightly grateful she’d been placed at a table with the lab created woman; she didn’t recognize anyone else in the room. Well, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gideon, but Harrow didn’t feel comfortable being around the Headmaster’s daughter, especially after the incident that morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The redhead in question was alone at a table across the aisle from Harrow and Cam, and she looked asleep—amazing considering Mercymorn’s constant opera level berating. She had her head propped up on her arm, but she was completely still minus the gentle rising of chest. Her notebook was open, but the sketches inside were not what was on the screen at the front of the room, and they didn’t seem to be of any type of monster specific structure. Harrow was trying not to make it noticeable that she was staring, but from her limited angle it looked like Gideon’s pages were full of...women? Harrow rolled her eyes and went back to perfectly shaping a metacarpal. The Headmaster was probably sorely disappointed in his daughter already; he didn’t need Harrow’s help in pitying the dull minded ginger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mercymorn blew past, nothing but white light and chilly air with a flash of wild peach hair. She passed through Harrow’s left arm, sending electric sparks running through her flesh and blood. She briefly lost feeling in the appendage, but control returned in a few seconds. Harrow shook her arm out, rubbing her tingling skin and massaging the now cramped muscles. “Yeah, Mercy frequently forgets how living bodies react to ghosts passing through,” Camilla said nonchalantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost in question stopped in her frenzied flight and came right up in front of Gideon. She hovered there for a few seconds then shrieked, “Gaius!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon jolted upright so fast her glasses slipped off her face and clattered to her desk. “Ah! What?!” She rubbed her head and blinked her eyes open at the practically steaming banshee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow supposed Mercymorn was talking—er, screaming more likely—but she couldn’t hear a thing. Gideon’s eyes were so bright and golden, Harrow was amazed the glasses were able to contain them. The sounds of the room dampened as if underwater, and Harrow’s mind filled with a pleasant buzzing as she stared at the golden eyes. Her mind added a melodic hum to the soft buzzing, fatiguing every thought that tried to cross her synapses. Her brain was typically a massive generator, constantly writhing and whining, but those beautiful eyes melted through like lava, reducing her to a drooling, staring moron. Gideon seemed to realize her glasses were off and they were replaced, the buzzing cutting off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow looked over to Cam who was pulling on her stitching, a nervous habit she supposed. “Wow,” was all she could say, her voice higher than normal as her brain struggled to come back online.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam cocked an eyebrow, the exposed bolt on her neck sparking a bit with the action. “See what we mean? She didn’t even look at you and you were caught by it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is she?” Harrow asked, her voice returning to its normal ice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla seemed to pause at that, another stray zap coming from her bolts. “Gideon is just, incredibly powerful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t give me that vague crap,” Harrow hissed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What is she?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What kind of creature has such a hold?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another uneasy moment of silence from the Frankenstein creature. Finally Cam said, rather slowly, “Promise you won’t overreact?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow nodded. “Promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve heard of mermaids correct?” Camilla said randomly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do fish hybrids have to do—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just follow me here. You’ve heard of mermaids. Have you heard of their darker counterpart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow’s mind scrambled back to the monstrous (pun completely intended) encyclopedia of monsters and ghouls.“Wait, are you saying she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>siren</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Cam nodded mutely. “Aren’t they, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderers</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Harrow whisper exclaimed. “Demonic beasts who lure people to their deaths using deceit and trances?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see why Gideon doesn’t like people to know this particular piece of information.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sat back in her seat, jaw hanging slightly open. “So she can control people? That’s what she did to Palamedes earlier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. But she’s not dangerous. Gideon hates her ability; it’s her father who wants her to follow in his footsteps and train.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow thought back to the previous day upon meeting the Headmaster. When he’d first stepped through the barrier she’d felt a melodic hum in the back of her mind, a lesser version of the powerful buzz generated by Gideon. “He’s a siren too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam nodded. “Technically the males are called Tritons, but yes. Her mother was one too.” She readjusted her sleeve over her stitching, hiding where the string was fraying. “That’s how he guards the school. The barrier is a physical creation of his voice. People who see it fall under his spell and are commanded to ignore the school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought sirens were only able to use their voices? Why are Gideon’s eyes a vessel for her power?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like all ghouls, there are variations. Her mother was a purely vocal siren, but her father has the eye mutation. Gideon just took after him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sat there silently. Her mind was twisting back and forth with the idea of Gideon and the Headmaster being sirens. She had heard tales about those creatures, all of them horror stories. There was no such thing as a trustworthy siren. Hell, there was no such thing as a nice or a kind or an honest siren. Every story told of the terror they inflicted on any unlucky person to fall upon their path. How they lured people off cliffs or into the waves then ate their flesh and stole their souls. How they shifted from fish to human, hunting in all forms for people to consume. How the sound of their voice could render even the most sensible person a mindless puppet. They were hideous and horrendous, with razor sharp fins and teeth like daggers. Sirens were feared by humans and the supernatural alike. They were considered monsters among ghouls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon Gaius was suddenly a hell of a lot more terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bell rang for the end of class and Harrow swept all her books into her pitch black backpack and bolted from her table, desperately needing as much space as possible between her and the gold-eyed siren. Camilla was methodically placing all her pens, pencils, and rulers into compartments within her own bag, barely noticing Harrow’s hurry to get out of the confining classroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As was her luck, in her rush to get out Harrow smacked directly into Gideon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, Harrow! Save that energy for the final bell,” Gideon laughed. She was staring down at Harrow from behind shaded eyes, but Harrow swore she could see the faint glimmer of gold through the tint, and her body flared into panic mode.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me!” She shouted, pushing off Gideon’s chest and backing away. She brought one hand up in front of her face, like the sun was shining into her eyes. Gideon’s mouth was hanging open a bit, and Harrow swore she could see the knife-like points on each tooth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What—what’s wrong?” Gideon asked, trying to move closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—you’re a-a siren! A water demon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon froze in her spot and didn’t try to approach again. “Harrow, I promise I’m not dangerous.” There was a slight watery sound under her voice, which in a normal person could have been borderline tears, but in a siren was probably a vocal ruse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow tore out of there as fast as she could, racing into the hallway and nearly hitting the werewolf duo lingering by the door. She mumbled an apology and started jogging down the hall to her last class. “Harrow, wait!” Cam’s voice came from behind her, and Harrow only stopped because the siren was nowhere to be seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that about?” Cam asked, coming to a stop beside her. “You said you wouldn’t overreact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was under-reacting!” Harrow said, amazed Cam was so calm hanging around one of the most feared monsters alive. “No good comes from sirens! They kill and lie and cheat and steal to get whatever they want! Haven’t you read the stories? Heard the tales? They’re dangerous!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam sighed slowly, ironic considering she probably didn’t need oxygen at all. “I understand your concerns. Yes, I’ve heard the stories and I’m fully aware the reputation sirens have, but that’s not Gideon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well she sang Palamedes for just speaking to her so I think you’re wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The duo continued walking to their last class, Harrow a step ahead of Camilla. The ghoul was quiet for awhile before saying, “You should read Palamedes’ research. He’s made a lot of progress in siren studies. How their powers work, their anatomy, and even what we can do to fight their abilities. Maybe you’ll feel better about Gideon if you understand her a bit more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow looked back at the woman. “I didn’t know they did studies on sirens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most don’t. Because they have the same fears you do.” Camilla paused. “But Palamedes has a need to do what others can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow chewed on her lip a bit. “I am extremely interested in reading his research,” she conceded. “Alright, I’ll take a look.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrived at history class which was taught by Professor Augustine. The man in question was sitting with his legs up at a large wooden table filled with relics from around the world, smoking a modern cigarette. His white hair was slicked back and he was absurdly thin, dressed all in white similar to Mercymorn. The only splotch of color was a brown shawl wrapped around his shoulders with black markings sewn on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful what you say in this class,” Cam whispered as they entered. “Augustine will put a curse on you for even </span>
  <em>
    <span>implying</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s wrong or off topic. I’ve heard Mercy call him ‘Patience’ a few times, which must be an absurd joke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, did you say ‘curse’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s a witch doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow groaned. “Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>joy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two took seats near the back of the classroom, half hidden by shadows. Augustine was fiddling with a glass jar on his desk, swirling the purple liquid inside. Harrow noticed there were similar sized bottles all over the room, filled with hundreds of different substances ranging from blue gas to green dust to orange liquid. “You’d think he’d be teaching chemistry,“ Harrow noted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla took out a thick notebook and a stubby pencil. She flipped through the perfectly written notes, making notations every so often. “He does have a chemistry class. But he’s also immortal and was around to see some of the major events of the last thousand years, so history is appropriate as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The class was quieter than the previous ones Harrow had today, everyone staring straight ahead at the man before them. The late bell rang and the heavy wooden doors slammed shut seemingly on their own. The room fell into a dead silence, not even a whisper permeating the space. Augustine stood slowly, set down the leather bound book he had been reading, blew out some smoke, opened his mouth to speak—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And was interrupted by Gideon bursting through the door. “Sorry!” She said to his disappointed look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, you better have a good reason for being late, again.” His voice was not sharp and cruel as Harrow had expected, but more tired and absolutely done with life. She assumed that was the affect your voice took on after being alive for over a thousand years. Something she could look forward to, she guessed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh I have a reason,” the siren said, running her hand through the shaved underside of her hair. Augustine sighed flatly and crossed the room to her, the two stepping into the shadows of the doorway, hushed whispers too muffled to hear. Harrow hated how she was straining to eavesdrop. Her attention was caught by a sudden pin prick of gold light, then Augustine returned to the front of the room and began talking as if nothing had interrupted him. Gideon slipped out the doors and shut them behind her, sunglasses being casually readjusted on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Feel better’ my ass, Cam, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harrow thought a bit bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirens are all the damn same, even Gideon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Gideon quietly entered the library, breathing a calming breath upon finding it decently barren. In the dark yellow glow of the room she could remove her glasses and not worry about anyone noticing her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She picked a table in the back as normal and spread the random books from her backpack in front of her. She entertained the thought of trying to read one of the boring textbooks or the ancient literature featuring abusive straight people, but eventually settled on browsing one of her magazines instead. They always helped cheer her up, and right now she was tremendously depressed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She really wanted Harrow to like her. She was completely new, a blank slate at this school where everyone knew everyone, and in less than a day Gideon had managed to scare her off. Her father was right, her lack of friends really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> hit a wrong note in her, and she’d at least hoped Harrow would get to know her a bit before judging her power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No such luck considering it took her all of two seconds to bring out the ‘water demon’ term. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t anything new in Gideon’s world. She’d heard that and about ten other awful nicknames for a siren since her power had developed. Devil singer, soul eater, water witch, on and on and on they went. When she’d first sung someone in public a few years ago, the mummy Coronabeth had clapped excitedly, exclaiming how much she’d always wanted to meet a siren seductress. Gideon had thought the idea that sirens used their power to get laid had died out, but apparently it was still going strong. Probably why she couldn’t get a date either, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> train of thought wasn’t going to help her mood right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon leaned her head back against the bookcase behind her, staring up at the high ceiling and glowing chandeliers. It was so peaceful in here, so she closed her eyes and decided to take a nap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We had a deal, Gideon.” A voice said suddenly above her. Gideon started upwards, the legs of her chair cracking back down to the floor. Her magazine went flying from her lap as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Standing over her was the disappointed face of her father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So ‘m a bit late fo’ class,” Gideon mumbled. “I’ll go now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The school day ended half an hour ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. That </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> a great nap then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John Gaius rubbed at his own gold eyes, probably debating the consequences of strangling his child right there. “We just had this conversation yesterday and you promised to attend class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry!” Gideon stood up, gathering her unread books and escaped magazine into a pile. “I can’t help it if I have more interesting things to do than listen to Augustine pretend he saw the Treaty of Versailles being signed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to go to class,” her father said flatly. “And not just sing Augustine into thinking you were there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, don’t I get any points for knowing ‘Treaty of Versailles’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what it was and maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon paused. “It was a treaty,” she began. “In Versailles, about a war.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was pretty proud of herself for that explanation until her father said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Which</span>
  </em>
  <span> war?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A big one,” she said confidently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh please stop, I can feel my brain losing function.” The voice of Palamedes said from somewhere behind John Gaius. Him and Camilla stepped from the shadows as if they’d been there all along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this, an intervention of the nerds?” Gideon asked defensively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her father beckoned the two scientists closer. “No, this is an alternative option for you. I undid the song you put on Palamedes to not speak of training you anymore”—he held up a hand to shush the protest erupting from her mouth—“so instead of sitting through Augstine’s class or singing him to get out of it, you can work with Palamedes and Camilla.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on,” Gideon said, catching up. “How did you know I sang Augustine? How’d you even know I cut class in the first place?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John Gaius indicated her suddenly guilty friends. “They told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both pairs of grey eyes avoided looking at her. “Traitors,” she growled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just want to help you Gideon,” Palamedes argued. “And you aren’t exactly subtle about coming and going.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She groaned, sitting back down and hanging her head in her hands. “So if I let Sex Pal do his mad scientist shit, I don’t have to suffer through Augsutine’s class?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” her father said. “And you have to try, Gideon”—he placed a gentle hand on her back—“I hate seeing you as a social outcast. I want you to learn how to effectively use your power and control it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon waited a few seconds before answering. She didn’t want to embrace the part of her she hated, and she especially didn’t want to do anything her father was asking, but she also didn’t want to be alone for her whole life. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she sighed. Then she jumped up and said quickly, “But I can still go to the gym whenever I want! If you lock me out I’ll stop doing Sex Pal’s siren training for dummies, and I’ll just sing Pyrrha and O.G. into letting me in anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her father considered for a moment before agreeing. “Fine, deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John Gaius thankfully left then. Gideon was left facing her two, and really only, close friends who had inexplicably betrayed her to her father for a chance to pick at her abilities. “I hate you both,” she said as kindly as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right back atcha,” Palamedes quipped back. “Now, I already have a plan for testing the limits and strength of your ability, but in order to complete it we’ll need another person. Someone you can put under your spell while Cam and I take notes and observations.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged. “Alright, good luck finding someone willing to do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam stared at her stitches as she said, “Well, I know someone who is very interested in reading Pal’s research on sirens. We might be able to convince her to help us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon didn’t like the sound of that. “Please don’t tell me it’s—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Harrow.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Even Score</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrow sat at her desk in her room putting the final touches on her homework like the perfectionist she was when there was a thumping on the heavy wooden door. On the other side was Palamedes holding his thickly bound book of ghoul research. “Harrow,” he greeted. “How was your first day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mediocre. Is that the research Cam promised?” Harrow eyed the book hungrily. After so long with simple stories to fulfill her urge to learn more about other ghouls, she was desperate to finally have real science to fill the gaps in her mind. Sextus handed over the book without a word and Harrow felt her fangs slip out from the force of her grin.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some sections are incomplete,” Palamedes said as Harrow flipped through the pages. “I’m still piecing together traits and characteristics for creatures I’m not able to meet with. And of course my siren section is simultaneously the most and least extensive. Compared to my other research, it’s sad, but compared to other people’s research it’s grandiose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because no one else has access to a live siren for studies,” Harrow remarked. “Normal monsters don’t want anything to do with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Normal monster is quite the oxymoron.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow ignored him and flipped to the page labeled sirens. It was a grand total of three pages long. The first page was a diagram of an eye. Harrow instantly recognized it as Gideon’s. Someone had painstakingly colored the whole iris gold, etching dark black spots around the pupil, and drawing thin eyelashes extending like spider’s legs from the top. Harrow hadn’t noticed the black dots in Gideon’s eyes, and wondered who had been brave enough to get close enough to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cam did the details on the eye,” Palamedes said, noticing her interest. “A few years ago when I first started studying how siren abilities work. Claimed she wanted the drawing to be accurate since all siren eye patterns are different.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took note of the slight change in tone of his voice. “You think she had a different reason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were just young teens,” he sighed. “Cam was a bit enamoured with Gideon, which was unreciprocated because Gideon was scared of hurting Cam with her power. Life as a siren is pretty lonely, as you can imagine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow scoffed. “For good reason. Just because Gideon and John Gaius are decent people doesn’t negate the inherent bloodlust in their DNA.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next page on sirens was a diagram of a prefrontal cortex, visual cortex, and temporal lobe. The temporal lobe was labeled ‘Non-siren’ while the other two features were labeled ‘Siren’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the part I’m still working on,” Palamedes explained. “How a siren’s power affects someone’s mind. This is what Cam and I are going to be studying with Gideon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She agreed to participate in your research?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. We just need a fourth person to help us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were burning a hole through Harrow’s mind as the implication in his words set in. She refused to look up from the notes. “Are you asking if </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh good, you caught that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cut the crap, Sextus. Why are you asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now she looked up. Palamedes was shrugging, running a stiff hand through his hair. “Because no one else would do it. Except maybe Coronabeth but I don’t want to put Gideon through that when she’s already decently reluctant to this idea. Besides, you want answers the same as we do. This is your chance to get them firsthand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow gnawed on the worn skin of her lower lip. He presented adequate arguments, but the premise was she’d have to be in the same room as an uncontrollable siren, which she hated on multiple levels. Sextus and Hect seemed like people of their words though, so the fact they vouched for Gideon held a little weight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it,” Harrow conceded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes looked relieved. “Alright, we’re starting tonight after dinner. Meet us in the gym if you decide to join.” Harrow went to hand back his book but he shook his head. “Keep it for now. You know where I’ll be when you’re done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took a seat on her bed as he left, staring at the scrawled notes about siren powers and their effects. The golden eye diagram stared her down, and she began to feel a slight buzz creeping into her mind. Harrow blinked rapidly then slammed the book shut, sweat dripping down her neck. She’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take Sextus up on his offer. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, Harrow was insane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood outside the gym doors, Sextus’s book tucked under one arm, watching through the glass as Camilla and Gideon sparred. Gideon had her black blindfold on again, but was keeping up with Cam as she had that morning. Their swords clashed and the sound echoed off the gym walls as Harrow waited to see if she’d change her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes noticed her standing there and waved for her to enter. She could still back out. Then Cam and Gideon paused to notice her as well, and Harrow would be lying if she said her chest didn’t hurt a bit seeing Gideon break into a wide grin. Must be another deceitful siren trick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reluctantly entered the gym. “I’m glad you decided to join us,” Camilla said by way of greeting, placing her sword on the large wall rack. Gideon slid her own into a sheath, and Harrow noticed where the grippy part (hilt? pommel? holding thingy?) met the blade there was a flash of red. A beautiful red scale like from a dragon or a mermaid was set into the sword. The edges were tinged in gold and it moved like liquid under the light. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if that’s a siren scale? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pondered as the red piece disappeared into the sheath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here as an observer in the name of science,” Harrow said, handing the book back to Palamedes. “I have no other interest in learning about siren nature.” Gideon flinched as she said ‘siren’, and Harrow hoped there hadn’t been too much malice in the word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam looked at Palamedes with an accusing glare. “You didn’t tell her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I got her down here didn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t like this. “Spit it out you two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla was casually examining the stitching on her hand as Palamedes observed the suddenly interesting skylight. Neither spoke. “I have to sing someone,” Gideon finally supplied. “You’re the one they wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because no one else would agree to it!” Palamedes argued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I’m not agreeing to it either!” Harrow backed herself up until she was against the cold glass. “You never said anything about this!” She accused Sextus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically,” he said, coming closer with his hands up in surrender, “I implied you being sung was a possibility. You simply misunderstood.” Harrow realised her fangs were out and relaxed them, which prompted Palamedes to relax as well and move closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow punched him in the throat. “Sorry, I guess you misunderstood,” she said in response to his choked gurgle. Gideon and Cam both broke into laughter, then covered it by pretending they were coughing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not going to be so bad, Harrow,” Cam said, moving past the briefly muted Palamedes. “Gideon is just going to put you under her spell; she isn’t going to control you or anything. We just need to observe how a normal brain responds to a siren song.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And for the record,” Gideon piped up, “I’m not super fond of this either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know, Gideon,” was the resounding phrase from both the frankensteins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes rubbed his throat some more and cleared his voice a few times. There was a metallic whirring behind each sound. “Very good punch,” he said once his voice returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shitty form,” Camilla countered. “Pal is just weak.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow felt all three eyes fall on her. Despite Gideon’s being shaded by the blindfold the magnetic tug was still there. Harrow didn’t want to say yes, but those eyes had been too gorgeous just to see once, and Sextus’s research was highly important to him so the least she could do is </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Fine,” she agreed. “But one wrong word and I’ll kill you,” she warned Gideon, with a threatening display of fangs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ginger smirked cockily. “I’d like to see you try, sugarlips.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t push it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>siren</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon flinched again at the word, and Harrow only felt a little bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam attached soft electrodes to both Harrow and Gideon’s heads while Sextus connected the wires to a computer he had. “Why do you use a notebook to record research when you have a functioning computer?” Harrow asked as they were finishing setting up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I prefer writing stuff down physically,” he replied. “Besides, as a piece of technology myself, I don’t trust other technology.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Cam said, “we’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two backed away from where Gideon and Harrow stood facing each other. The blindfold was still on, the yellow shine of Gideon’s eyes barely visible. “Ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Harrow admitted. “I’m fucking terrified.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She expected Gideon to simply laugh and remove the eye covering, but instead she was frozen stiff. “I’m not going to do this if you don’t want me to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought a major high point of siren powers was the fact the victim’s cooperation wasn’t required.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shook her head; even through the blindfold Harrow could tell she was sad. “Harrow, what can I do to prove I’m not some evil souleater?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She said honestly, “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, are we gonna do this or not?” Cam called. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon deferred to Harrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s now or never, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harrow’s brain argued. Her fear would have to suck it for right now. “Alright. Go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon untied the black fabric and tucked it into her pocket. Harrow heard the buzzing before the eyes were on her, but when the golden iris met her black ones, Harrow heard nothing. The world fell into a deep silence that pressed against her brainstem, suffocating her own thoughts. She tried to force some internal dialogue, but her temporal lobe was full of the soft and sweet silence. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Gideon. Murmurs beyond the silence reached her, but they were unfamiliar voices so Harrow paid them no mind. The silence of Gideon’s gaze was all she needed for the rest of her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The black shades of Gideon’s sunglasses appeared, covering the eyes and abruptly shutting the silence off. The noises of the gym flooded back into Harrow like a burst dam: the whir of the air conditioner, Cam and Sextus talking, the beeping of their computer, the small electric sizzle of the nodes, the heaving of her own chest as her heart thumped a mile a minute. “What the fuck,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and dazed. She went to move, but her legs were unresponsive and she stumbled forward. Gideon instantly caught her, letting Harrow slump against her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Gideon murmured as Harrow blinked and flexed her muscles, forcing her legs to stand up. She stumbled a bit, holding onto Gideon’s forearms for balance. Her skin was so warm and alive; Harrow could feel the blood rushing through her veins. It suddenly made her hungry. She’d skipped dinner as normal, and she wondered what siren blood tasted like. She’d once tried mermaid blood at a ghoul food truck festival her town had hosted, and it hadn’t been awful. A bit salty for her liking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow realised she was still holding Gideon and she pushed back quickly, disturbed how not-awful it felt to touch her. Never one to admit she was wrong, Harrow snapped, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was disgusting, disturbing, and a complete mental violation.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon looked severely hurt for a second, her highly defined jaw dropping a bit. “Wait, you’re talking about the singing right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, moron!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon sighed like she was relieved and flashed a crooked grin. “I was worried you were disgusted by touching me. Glad to know that’s not the case, demon queen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow was saved from having to respond by Cam approaching. “Alright, now for the qualitative data. I need you both to describe what it felt like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Harrow said, almost unable to think of a word to describe how empty being sung felt. “There was just nothingness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam quirked an eyebrow with precision. “You can do better than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sighed. “Fine. It was—silent. Extremely, suffocatingly, silent. When I came out of it the sounds of the room were overstimulating.” Cam nodded, prodding her to go on. “There was...not much other sensory information either, I guess. I couldn’t see anything except her eyes. I wasn’t feeling the cold of the room or sensing the air flow. I was in a mental and sensory bubble. Completely cut off from anything else to bring my mind back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon was fiddling with her glasses, head angled to the floor. Her neck cracked upwards when Cam said her name. “Oh my turn? Great. So uh, well Harrow’s mind is super loud. Like fuckton of information just swirling up in there. It wasn’t too hard to make it be quiet so I really didn’t use much of my power, like, willingly. I just let what naturally leeches out, uh, do the leeching.” (“Please stop saying ‘leech’,” said Cam).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you could see my thoughts?!” Harrow exclaimed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon quickly shook her head. “No! Not like, read them or see your memories and shit! It’s—ah fuck it’s hard to explain! Like I don’t see what you’re thinking, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. All the senses you lose become mine. All the sensory information you process I take so I can worm my way inside your head and have control.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow nodded, understanding while also being completely freaked out. She had another interesting observation to question Gideon about as well. “So if the silence occurs while I’m under your power completely, the initial buzzing and dazed thinking is only a sign of being in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>presence</span>
  </em>
  <span> of your control, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged. “Beats me. How should I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your power</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what? That’s supposed to make me some sort of expert?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam finished her notes while Palamedes copied what was on the computer screen into another notebook. Harrow was itching to get her hands on both of the sets of research, and was about to ask, when Sextus said, “Alright, go again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow balked. “Pardon?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon wasn’t consciously using her powers,” Cam explained. “The point of these experiments is so she learns to control her ability. Hard to control when she can’t even use it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sighed and turned back to the siren. Gideon didn’t look too thrilled to be doing this again either, which was a comfort in some way. Harrow decently trusted the ginger wouldn’t sing her into doing something stupid, like dance or recite pi wrong. Once Palamedes gave a thumbs up that he was ready, Gideon pulled off her glasses and Harrow felt the silence slide over her again like a blanket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time she was aware of how Gideon was putting her under the spell. By taking control of her senses the siren could specifically design every message that went through her synapses and block the formation of Harrow’s personal thoughts. Understanding what was happening didn’t help calm Harrow’s nerves, and, if anything, just made the situation worse. She could see the scenario playing out before her but she was unable to alter or control it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the silence had situated itself around Harrow, forcing all her thoughts into her hindbrain, she heard a faint murmur from outside her bubble, then the feeling changed. She felt a deep pressure fill the front of her mind, worming deeper into her neurons. Nothing followed. It was simply the silence and the pressure, but not uncomfortable. Harrow caught herself trying to slip into a relaxed state, but pushed away from the feeling. Her mind was groggy and still scrambling under the weight of Gideon’s eyes, but the primal part of her was alive and trying to kick away from the false security of a siren song. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon, who Harrow now knew could feel her synaptic impulses, most certainly noticed Harrow’s sudden attempt at panic. The golden eyes softened from their harsh glow and the sweet singsong words, “Harrow, relax” flashed across her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow barely processed the command before her limps went slack, her panic came to a halt, and the wild survival part of her mind dropped like a rock to the bottom of her brainstem. She was completely limp and still against Gideon’s command. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The eyes suddenly disappeared and this time Harrow did collapse when her senses came pouring back. She hit the ground with the abrupt sensations of cold, wind, voices, scuffling, paper, whirring, blood, heart, movement, </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span> flooding through her. She grabbed at the sides of her head where a burning pain was leaking through, as if blood were filling up her lobes, and ripped off the nodes Cam had perfectly placed. Her limbs were still weak and her muscles quivered as she stood, but she stood up anyway and rounded on the sheepish siren. “What the fuck was that!?” She roared, her throat so dry her voice cracked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, you were freaking out so—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You bitch, you sung me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon backed away as Harrow moved closer. “It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t think!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam was suddenly between them, hands out in defense. “Harrow, she’s right,” she said evenly. “It was an accident. She didn’t make you do anything dangerous or stupid, so there’s no reason to overreact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow smacked the hand that was acting as a barricade. “No big deal! She promised she wouldn’t sing me! I don’t care what she actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she still manipulated my thoughts and actions without my permission!” With that, Harrow attempted to leave in a flurry of black robes and righteous indignation. Instead she knocked into Cam who did not move—true to the boulder she was—forcing Harrow to straighten her cloak and walk the opposite direction with only a small bit of grace. She raced back the halls and up the steps to her room, locking the door behind her so fast her already short nail snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her room was dark and silent, and Harrow was sick of silence, so she screamed. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It was a few hours later, after Harrow had gone for a calming night flight and played rock music at full volume, that someone knocked timidly on the door. Harrow opened it to see the siren herself standing outside, glasses on as normal. “H—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Harrow slammed the door in Gideon’s face, returning to her bed and dusty comfort books from home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harrow! Please! I’m sorry!” Gideon begged from the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius, it’s nearly midnight. Now go to bed and stop yelling in my hallway!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to talk! What can I do to make it up to you? Harrow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeaky hinges down the hall were followed by a pretentious and half asleep male voice hollering, “Oh for Ra’s sake, shut the fuck up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tern, this conversation does not involve you!” Gideon shouted back. Harrow yanked open her door and pulled the annoying girl inside, if just to avoid upsetting more of the people she now had to live with. The mummy boy, who had the unfortunate job of living with the Tridentarius sisters, glared at her with his creepy two toned eyes before slamming his own door with enough gusto for a Broadway show. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re willing to hear me out?” Gideon asked, a hopeful smile on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sighed and rubbed her eyes. “If I listen to this, will you leave without making another scene?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded so fast her glasses almost slipped off her face. She pushed them back up frantically before going back to fiddling with her hands. “So, I understand that singing you earlier was wrong, no matter my intentions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It took you this long to figure that out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, let’s establish right now that I’m a bit of a stubborn dumbass alright? Anyway, I want to make it up to you somehow. I know you really don’t trust me too much, so what can I do to start changing that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow thought for a second. Gideon seemed genuine, which Harrow hoped wasn’t just residual siren power messing with her mind. “Trust isn’t formed overnight. But a decent first step would be for us to be on the same level.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon snorted. “Vampires now have a super growth ability?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not talking physically, you moron! You did something that I consider to be invasive, so in turn I should even the score by doing something to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is considered invasive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of Gideon’s orange eyebrows went up over her shades. “Nonagesimus, are you hitting on me? Cause if you are, I’m totally winking under these things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow gagged. “Ew, no! Nothing sexual! Take sex of any kind off the table completely!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon cracked one of her stupid grins. “Alright, not on the table. So the bed is still fair game?” Harrow punched her in the gut, which did nothing to the giant ginger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After Gideon stopped chuckling like an idiot, Harrow decided she had an opening to propose the flashbulb idea she’d had earlier. “Would you be willing to let me drink from you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean, you want to drink my blood?” Gideon asked, shocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow scratched at her scalp, suddenly awkward when she clearly had the upper hand. “It sounds weird, but listen. When I was younger my town had a ghoul festival. One of the delicacies was a food truck that served mermaid blood. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t awful. Anyway, that day is one of the few good memories from my childhood. So I figured it might be a good way to put us back to square one: a bit invasive for you and beneficial for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “I understand complicated childhoods, don’t worry. Sure, I don't see any harm in a little sucking.” (“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> say it like that, you heathen,” Harrow snapped.) “But please don’t bleed me dry or to the point of death or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow agreed and had Gideon sit on her bed. She ignored the ginger’s lewd jokes as she brought out a damp cloth and wiped down a section of Gideon’s neck. When the skin was properly cleaned and she’d had Gideon take deep breaths to calm her blood flow, Harrow released her fangs. They glinted from the moonlight coming through the window, and Gideon whistled at the sight. “Shut up,” Harrow hissed before taking a seat behind her. She balanced herself with a hand on either of Gideon’s shoulders then bent her head to the skin. As her fangs pierced the flesh and her mouth closed over the section, she heard a soft whimper from Gideon. She started sucking, drawing the fresh blood into her mouth. She gurgled for a few seconds until falling into a rhythm, drawing the warm liquid down her throat like a smoothie. Gideon twitched a few times when Harrow bit down harder, but she kept quiet for the entire ordeal otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Harrow was finished she pressed the cloth to Gideon’s wound until the blood stopped leaking out. Gideon now had two nice pinpricks on her skin which Harrow begrudgingly admitted she found a bit hot. She licked some lingering drops from her fangs before sliding the teeth back under her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t so awful,” Gideon admitted, hissing a bit as she stupidly tried to touch the bite marks. “Weird to feel my blood being pulled from my body though.” She stared at Harrow now, awkwardly rubbing her neck and flinching from the soreness. “So are we like, good now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re fine,” Harrow replied, now a happy vampire. “I accept your apology.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon smiled weakly. “Good. So is this going to be a thing? Every time I mess up I become your meal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see. Now go home and eat something with iron in it. And drink a lot of water.” Gideon nodded and tried to rub her neck again. “Stop it,” Harrow chastised. “Or it won’t heal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very bossy,” Gideon smirked as she opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow tilted her head and let her fangs slide out again. “If you want me to apologize for it, you’ll have to wait a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell no, it’s kinda hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow thanked the heavens her face didn’t flush until after Gideon had closed the door. She laid back on her bed, limbs splayed out in all directions. Her body was warm and happy after having been deprived of a fresh meal for so long. She licked her lower lip, tasting some of Gideon’s blood caught between the cracked skin. She equally hated and loved how good it tasted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hoped they’d get to do that again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Corona Gets Involved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrow stared at the open book before her, not giving much of a damn about the assignment Professor Protesilaus had given them. Her two desk partners, the werewolf teenagers Isaac and Jeannemary, had their attention occupied by seeing if they could fit another earring in Isaac’s ear. He was hissing through his fangs as Jeannemary slid the sharpened lead of her mechanical pencil through his delicate cartilage, a gold hoop gripped in Isaac’s mouth. Harrow went back to doodling bone structures in her notebook margins, actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>wishing</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was in anatomy with the screeching Mercymorn. She had been pretending to care about the thematic romantic relationship in The Great Gatsby, but their professor talked so slowly through every point she had given up. Protesilaus wasn’t even a zombie, and Harrow had never heard of gargoyles having any genetic speech abnormalities, so the sluggish tone of voice he affected was completely his fault. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold still Isaac!” Jeannemary ordered as the boy she was assaulting with lead whined. “Or the next set of earrings will be silver!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeanne, no,” he mumbled through a mouthful of gold hoop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a triumphant grunt, the teengirl punctured his ear. “Give me the earring, Isaac.” He didn’t give. “Isaac!” She reached over and hooked a finger through the hoop. Isaac growled and pulled back, refusing to relinquish the jewelry. “Isaac, give!” Jeannemary ordered, tugging harder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just swat him with a newspaper,” said someone from the desk behind them. The voice was dreary and had the enthusiasm of a wet plastic bag. Harrow twisted around to see the trio of bandages, excessive gold, and semi-precious gems sitting behind them. The mummy kids from down the hall were sneering back like the very presence of peasants was going to soil their royalty. The middle one had spoken, and she now leaning forward with her slick straight hair falling over one shoulder. Harrow recognized her as the sister to Coronabeth, but <em>highly</em> doubted they were twins. Where Corona was glowing like a sun about to supernova, her sister looked like the sickly afterimage. Harrow couldn't even remember what her name was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turns out she didn’t have to. The pale and bandaged hand extended out, knuckles up for an expectant kiss. “Ianthe Tridentarius,” said the shadow. “You must be the new vampire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh she is!” Corona chimed in, saving Harrow from being forced to touch Ianthe. “What was your name? Harrowhawk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harrow</span>
  <em>
    <span>hark.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right.” Corona kept the same even smile the whole time while Ianthe’s dropped the second her sister spoke. Clearly there was some tension in that mummy case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind your business, all of you!” Jeannemary snapped, her fingers still trying to pry the earring from Isaac’s fangs. He was shaking his head and tugging back like it was a tug of war. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a spray bottle,” Ianthe continued. “Or maybe Babs could go find a cat for him to chase.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy mummy scoffed as if such medial tasks were beneath him. “Me? Touch one of those flea-bidden creatures? Not if you gave me all the gold in the Great Pyramid!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are a flea-bidden creature,” said Ianthe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeannemary tugged on Isaac’s overly pierced ear and he yelped, dropping the hoop into her hand. With one swift movement, she slid the metal into the hole and attached the new earring. He yelped once more as the quickly healing cartilage was reopened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ianthe turned her attention to Harrow now that the main show was over. “So you’re just as bored by this class as I am?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It could stand to be more alive,” said Harrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ianthe snorted. “A sense of humor, charming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corona suddenly butted her way into the conversation with, “Oh, vamp! I’ll be joining you and the others after school today!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow raised an eyebrow. “Joining what exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh didn’t they tell you? Gideon asked if I’d help in her training!” Corona beamed as if she’d been asked to accept the throne. Harrow spluttered out some response and returned to her notebooks. Sextus and Cam had said Gideon didn’t want Corona to participate, even though she was one of the few students who didn’t mind being sung. What would suddenly change their minds? Was Harrow being kicked from the group so soon? She hadn’t doubted it would happen eventually, but rejection so early still stung. Had she gone too far a few nights ago when she had drank from Gideon? If the siren was uncomfortable with her the least she could do was talk to Harrow directly! They had had plenty of time over the past few days of daily classes and late night training that a direct conversation wasn’t out of the question. Harrow was mentally flipping back and forth over whether to feel distressed, upset, resigned, or angry over Corona’s news when the bell rang and every student bolted from the room for lunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finish your thesis and introduction paragraphs on romantic themes in Gatsby by class tomorrow,” Protesilaus droned from the front desk. His hulking granite body creaked as he stood up and stretched out his massive wings. Harrow grimaced at the sounds of stone on wood and rushed to escape the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The werewolves howled with enthusiasm as they piled their books into ratty backpacks and darted into the hall, tails wagging under their large blue cloaks. The mummies took their time neatly sorting their personal effects into designer backpacks, the boy complaining the entire time about the low quality cafeteria food. Corona assured him they’d sneak out to order from a restaurant. Harrow packed up quickly, deciding to confront Gideon at lunch, and hurried from the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike early morning breakfast where most of the student body was half asleep, lunch was always a madhouse. Harrow dodged limbs, food, and rambunctious adolescents of all ages to find the circular table her acquaintances had designated theirs. Cam and Sextus were already there as well as Dulcinea. The brain matter on her plate was already half eaten so she must have gotten there early. Gideon was conveniently missing though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harrow, how’s your day going!” Dulcinea greeted with a slow blink of her ice filled eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. What’s this about Corona joining us tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes paused mid bite—the slab of chicken on his plate was unusual considering he rarely ever ate for enjoyment—and tediously wiped his mouth before speaking. “We’re moving onto the next step of training. Gideon needs to learn how to concentrate her ability on one singular person instead of infecting everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, great, but I thought you said Corona was not an option to help in our endeavor?” Harrow sat across from him, dropping her bag loudly to the ground. Sextus didn’t answer; instead, he took another bite of chicken. After tediously chewing exactly fifteen times, he said, “Gideon was the one who asked. Inquire with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon appeared now, as if summoned, accompanied by the two gorgons she frequently associated with. “Hey guys,” she greeted the table. “I’ll catch up tonight. I’m going to the gym with Judy and Marta. Oh, by the way, Judith, Marta, this is Harrow,” Gideon introduced, talking a mile a minute. Both women gave a nod of acknowledgement, their braids squirming with reptilian hunger. They stood like soldiers going off to war, which Harrow figured was a gorgon thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” she acknowledged back. “Gaius, we need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon sent off her two friends with a promise she’d be right there and took a seat beside Harrow. “What’s up? Ready to confess your undying love for me, Nonagesimus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow snorted. “Not a chance. I wanted to ask what’s the deal with inviting Coronabeth to work with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon visibly squirmed as if the question was physically uncomfortable. “Sex Pal said I need to work on power concentration. In order to do that I need two people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harrow snapped impatiently. “But why can’t you just use one of them?” She pointed to the frankenstein monsters sitting across from them, who were pretending they weren’t part of the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because they’re both doing the research part. I need to sing someone, Harrow. Honest to God, completely for real, mind control and all, sing someone. I know you’re adverse to participating like that, so I asked Corona because I knew she’d love it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow stopped. So it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Gideon was tired of her being around? She was trying to respect Harrow’s boundaries? She wasn’t sure what the proper reaction was to that; her parents had never respected her boundaries, her privacy, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> in general. She stupidly said, “Oh, alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon smiled. It was a bit crooked, and Harrow took notice she had a slight dimple on one side. She’d look cute if she wasn’t wearing her douchebag sunglasses. “We good, Harrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Perfectly fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon got up and sprinted from the cafeteria after her stone eyed companions. Dulcinea leaned over and winked mischievously at Harrow. “I don’t know what you did to hook her like that, but congratulations!” Her voice was the same melodic zombie tone, but underneath was a tinge of liveliness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took a second to process the comment, then said intelligently, “Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon never looks at anyone like that!” Dulcinea continued. “She’s always so scared to make new friends or start liking someone cause she’s a siren. But she’s taken to you like a tendon to a bone!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re simply friends,” Harrow defended, noting the ‘liking someone’ comment. “And barely there I might add. We just met a few days ago, and, as you said, she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>siren</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I trust her as far as I can throw her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dulcinea cocked her head. “Because you’re scared she’ll control you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not scared. Adequately cautious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dulcinea sat back in her chair, running a grey toned hand through her curled locks. “Whatever you say, Harrowhark. But I haven’t seen Gideon smile like that since before her mother died.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Harrow arrived at the gym late. She’d gotten distracted working on her thesis for literature, and when she arrived she was assaulted by the sight of Coronabeth Tridentarius in all her golden glory. The mummy was dressed in sparkly bandages and a disgustingly tight set of leggings and a top. Harrow noted her teeth were as bright as the rubies in her chandelier earrings. Gideon was standing in front of her in a tank top and sweatpants, clearly having been sparring, and Corona was taking full advantage. She had one bejeweled hand gripping Gideon’s exposed bicep and the other twirling a lock of curls. Gideon was nodding along with whatever Corona was saying, unsuccessfully trying to move away from her touch. Harrow entered and was greeted by the purple eyes flashing to her and a chipper, “Hello vamp! We were worried you weren’t going to show up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow truly hated this mummy. She didn’t have any reason she could put into words, but her intuition was never wrong. And the expression of pure uncomfortableness on Gideon’s face whenever Corona touched her was making strange emotions bubble in Harrow’s gut. She ended up ignoring the comment and turned to Cam and Sextus who were hunched over the computer and notebooks. “So how is this going to work exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes looked up, obviously so engrossed in his data he hadn’t noticed her arrival. “Harrow, great you’re here. To work on Gideon’s power concentration she’ll be singing Corona while you stand near her. The goal is for only Corona to feel her power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do we have to put those stupid nodes back on?” Gideon asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam shook her head. “No, we have a lot of brain imaging to sort and categorize as is. Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy staring at spectras of your neurons all night.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon flipped her off for the dig before motioning for Harrow to come closer. “Ready, witch of darkness?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not call me that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Transylvanian princess?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not from Transylvania, you oaf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you two please flirt later?” Cam asked with no small amount of exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took the high ground in not snapping back and instead took a position a few feet from where Gideon and Corona faced each other. The mummy was excitedly wringing her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “What exactly are you going to make me do?” She asked in her deep and sultry voice. Harrow swore there was an innuendo hidden under there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon must have caught it too because her face turned a strange shade of crimson. “Uh n-nothing nuts. Just, ya know, walk around a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corona’s big lower lip jutted out in a pout. “That’s no fun, Gideon. There are so many more interesting things I’m willing to do at your command.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now that’s an innuendo, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harrow thought, bristling a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon slipped her sunglasses up onto her head, pushing back some of her unruly red hair in the process. Corona beamed as the golden eyes met her purple ones, then the buzzing began. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow felt it more so than hearing it. Her cerebral cortex was vibrating against her skull, sending ringing sensations down through her neck and spinal chord. The edges of her vision were blurry and distorted as her line of sight narrowed to just Gideon. The buzzing and vibrating stilled as the silence settled over her senses, but her thoughts continued to run rampant through her mind—the pressure wasn’t there. She heard Gideon’s voice, muffled but distinguishable, say, “Turn around.” Harrow expected her limbs to obey, but the muscles and joints remained still. She focused her gaze away from Gideon and to the fuzzy golden blob that was Coronabeth. It was moving, probably obeying the command to turn. Harrow tried to push more on the limits of Gideon’s semi-hold, but the silence wrestled her vision back to the siren and started suffocating her brainstem as it had day one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, just as abruptly as the first time, Harrow’s senses flooded back in like a burst dam. She choked on the sudden influx of air as Corona blinked her big eyelashes until she regained focus. “That, was utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the mummy gasped. She gently wiped the glistening sheen of sweat that was running down the cleft in her shirt. “Perhaps next you can ask me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stretch</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you.” This was punctuated with another wink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Corona, please,” Gideon said as if they’d been having this conversation all along. “I’m not comfortable using my power that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re no fun, Gaius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam interrupted with, “Please, can we focus? Harrow, I’m guessing you were caught up by Gideon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Not as powerful though. Like I was an afterthought. I retained some of my sense awareness and thoughts. I also heard her command but didn’t act to follow it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon crossed her arms and rubbed at her forearms. The light red hairs were standing on end, either from the cold of the gym or some unseen emotion hidden by her tinted glasses. “So what do we do now? I don’t know how to avoid catching Harrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes looked up from where he was drumming his pencil against the edge of his notebook. “How hard were you focusing on Corona? Were you actually pushing your ability onto her or just, as you so beautifully articulated, letting it leech out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged. “I guess I was pushing a bit, but I wasn’t going too hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try pushing more then,” Palamedes urged. “With as much of your power as possible. Devote everything to controlling Corona. Perhaps that would be easier if you used a more complicated command.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon did not look happy with this suggestion, but she didn’t argue. Harrow was awkwardly picking at her already short fingernails, not sure what to do now that she was no longer the center of Gideon’s focus. After a few more flirty winks from Corona, Gideon removed her sunglasses and Harrow braced for the buzzing. She felt it briefly, a gentle rumble against her skull. It grew slower than before, as if the barrier between her and the siren only had a few small cracks versus a gaping hole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow gasped at the sudden absence and quickly took toll of her senses. Vision was clear and sharp, touch was present, scent was evident by the reek of floor wax, and hearing was more than fine. In fact, she perfectly heard Gideon’s voice, more melodic and song-like than ever before, saying, “Corona, dance with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coronabeth Tridentarius probably would have complied with this order even if she wasn’t under the siren’s spell, so of course she complied now. Her arms raised and she let Gideon place one hand on her waist and gently take hold of her other one. Corona’s free hand came to rest on Gideon’s shoulder and Harrow was reminded of the formal dances her aunts had hosted in their Victorian mansion. She had been too young to participate, but it hadn’t taken long to pick the locks on the room her parents had dumped her in. She’d sat on the balcony overlooking the ballroom and watched as her parents danced together with relatives and strangers alike. They’d been dressed in black, same as everyone, but Harrow knew her mother’s pointed face and her father’s hunched frame anywhere. It was the only loving gesture she ever saw them complete. The scene before her now was a vivid recreation of that dance, just in more color. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corona’s eyes were no longer glowing purple; instead, they were blank like Dulcinea’s. Her mouth did not curl in a victorious smirk as Gideon spun her around the room nor did her fingers flex suggestively against Gideon’s skin. She was completely entranced by the siren song. Gideon’s mouth was moving, whispering commands Harrow couldn’t hear, guiding Corona’s body around in circles. They moved to music only they could hear, and at one point Harrow swore she heard a gentle hum under Gideon’s breath. When they turned, two bodies moving as one, Harrow caught Gideon’s eyes. They were as bright and shining as every moment before, but they carried no buzz as the siren spun her victim along past Harrow. This went on for a minute before Gideon brought them to a stop back in their original positions. She released her grip on Corona who remained in her position. “Release,” Gideon said firmly. She pulled her glasses back down right as Corona’s body dropped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam launched out and grappled with the body as it succumbed to gravity. She managed to keep most of Corona from smacking into the neatly cleaned floor and continued holding the mummy as she coughed and hacked. “What the hell?” Corona finally managed to say. She rubbed at her eyes before standing up on quivering legs. “Who put rocks in my head?” She groaned, all the sultry flirtatiousness drained out of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was great, Gideon,” Sextus said as Cam guided Corona to sit down against the wall. “Harrow were you affected by the song at all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Briefly, but then not even when our eyes met.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes clapped his hands together with victory. “Yes! This is the progress we need! Power concentration is the first step to total control!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon had remained still after releasing Corona, but now her neck snapped straight up. “Total control? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Total control</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Gideon turned on Palamedes, getting right up in his face, causing him to step back frantically. “There is no such </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> as total control for a siren!” Her voice skyrocketed from upset to insane. “There’s just this awful song that I infect everyone with! </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> have no control over when or what or how I get them! What you’re asking is for me to forget the past eighteen years of careful isolation and preparedness to embrace this—this monster of a power! Fuck you Sextus, and when my father asks why I quit tell him to go fuck himself too!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon ran from the gym, crashing through the doors like a battering ram. She fled so quickly her glasses clattered off her face and to the ground. Gideon didn’t stop running though. Palamedes stood there, jaw slightly agape, watching her leave. Harrow moved on pure instinct, snatching the glasses off the floor and chasing after the furious siren. The fall to the floor had broken one of the arms on the frames, but Harrow carried the now useless accessory anyway. “Gideon!” Her shout echoed down the empty hallway. Dammit that girl was fast! “Where the hell are you,” Harrow whispered aloud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was only one place Gideon hung out more than the gym. Harrow darted to the left and down the dark halls to the library. Inside was just as dark and yellow as always. Harrow didn’t speak, listening for the noise that typically accompanied Gideon Gaius’s presence. The library was silent. Maybe she wasn’t in there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow turned to leave when her ears perked up to a soft whimper. She waited by the door, letting it silently close, as her senses traced the sound of crying. Harrow’s vampire senses were naturally in tune to distress noises. When the vampires of old had fed on victims, they had to rely on the scents of fear and pain to guide them. Despite centuries of evolution and the transition from murder to more humane blood gathering methods, those instincts were still in their DNA. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow arrived in one of the darkened rows of books, dust permanently filling the air. Gideon Gaius sat curled in a tight ball at the end, body shaking as she nearly silently cried into her knees. “Gideon,” Harrow whispered, hoping not to spook her into running again. “Hey, what the absolute fuck went on back there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not too good at comforting words are you?” Gideon mumbled from her position. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow ignored the accurate observation and continued moving closer. “You dropped your stupid sunglasses. The one arm is broken now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon blindly reached out, head not moving from her knees. “Just give them here and leave, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow ignored her and sat down nearby. “Why’d you flip out like that? Sextus is right, this is a good thing. The goal is to control your ability so you don’t have to walk around with a literal blindfold on your whole life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harrow,” Gideon mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about this. Especially when I can’t look at you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inspiration struck her. Harrow fumbled in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a strip of black fabric she kept on her for emergency tearing. She tossed it at Gideon’s feet. “Try that.” The siren looked up and Harrow saw the beautiful gold irises flare in the darkness. She took the piece of fabric and tied it over her eyes, blocking the slight buzz forming in Harrow’s ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks Nonagesimus,” she said. “I didn’t mean to flip out on Sex Pal, but I hate when he talks about sirens and control. He has no idea what kind of control we already have; I don’t want any more.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not asking you to have more control over your victims. The purpose is control over yourself, so you can live more normally.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged and fiddled with the broken glasses Harrow set by her leg. “It’s all the same to a siren. You know, when I was dancing with Corona, it didn’t feel awful. It felt calming and sweet, like a fairytale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow bristled without reason. “I don’t want to hear about your innermost feelings for Coronabeth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! No that’s not the case. It could have been a damn crocodile I was dancing with and it would have felt nice. That’s why it was so disgusting; I felt like I could do it again and again. That’s the siren song. It affects us a bit too, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence settled between them. Harrow waited for Gideon to continue, but her normal talkativeness was drained out of her. “I understand, in a way,” she ventured. “When I drink from a living person, as rare as it is, I feel a similar way.” Gideon actually looked at her now, a light gold glow under the strap of black. “There’s a power in feeling a heartbeat in your hands. I know it can be addicting. Vampires used to hunt humans in packs. Chase them down and drink until they were nothing but dehydrated corpses. We don’t anymore, but sometimes when I have living blood, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. I feel the hunger inside me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon swallowed eerily loud. “When I sing someone, especially as deep as I did Corona, I literally hold their life in my hands. I—I could feel each breath, every beat of her heart. It was like, if I told her to die, her body would give in right there. I could order her heart to stop beating and she’d do it. That’s—that’s too much. I don’t want that kind of control. No person should have that command over life and death, ya know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow moved closer so she was sitting directly beside Gideon. “I understand. It’s sort of a godly feeling. Complete command and all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was exactly one beat of silence until Gideon abruptly leaned her head onto Harrow’s shoulder. She flinched instinctively, but Gideon didn’t move. “Harrow,” she said softly, a watery tone under her words, “I don’t want to be God anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither, Gideon.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. White</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally part of a much larger chapter that was nearing 10k words. I felt like that was too much so I broke it up; hence, another update may soon follow this one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrow was quite happy to finally have a desk partner again in Augustine’s history class. Excluding her first day at Canaan High, she’d been flying solo. Cam and Sextus had both been granted passes from seventh period as well as Gideon to work on refining the theories they tested with Harrow in the evening, but the siren had made good on her promise to quit. Which meant Camilla had returned to Harrow’s desk in the back of class and Sextus had gone back to wherever his class was. Gideon was supposed to have come back as well, but for a whole week after her meltdown the siren was nowhere to be found. She didn’t even make an appearance at lunch or in her other classes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll reappear when she’s ready,” Cam kept saying whenever Harrow voiced her concerns. “Or perhaps Pal will give her a nudge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At what point will he do that?” Harrow asked, a bit aggravated. “She’s been gone a week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam shrugged. “This is normal Gideon behavior. When that changes we’ll intervene.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It changed the next day. Camilla came in at breakfast, still in her workout outfit, and simply said: “Gideon didn’t come to sparring today.” Palamedes blinked slowly, a new crease forming beside his eye with a worry Harrow had never seen grace his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do something,” he had said, getting up and leaving the room with his arms overflowing with books.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turns out Sextus’s idea of ‘doing something’ was running to the Headmaster. That day, halfway through one of Augustine’s historical conspiracy rants, John Gaius opened the wooden doors and dumped his daughter in a seat. Gideon twisted and writhed against his grip on her arm but didn’t run from the room like Harrow expected. “If she gives you trouble, feel free to curse her,” the Headmaster said to their teacher accompanied by a brotherly arm punch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that Gideon continued to show up in her other classes as well. She conveniently avoided their table in the cafeteria, and the one time she did walk by, she flipped Palamedes off before leaving. “It was for her own good,” Sextus said when Harrow asked why he’d gone straight to Gideon’s father. “It’s not healthy for her to isolate herself like that. Besides, he’s the only one that can drag her where she doesn’t want to go without getting attacked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t know how much healthier it was for Gideon to be sulking her way through classes with less life in her than a zombie. She hadn’t seen her take one note or answer a single question. Even when Mercymorn called on her to answer which bone structure connected a gargoyle wing to its spine, Gideon just sat there unresponsive. With a dismissive shriek, the banshee moved on to her next victim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Monday after Gideon had been forced to return to class, after a grand total of three school days, she sat down at their table during breakfast and said, “My father said I had to kiss your ass if I wanted to go back into training, so here I am. I’m sorry about the shit that happened like two weeks ago and it won’t happen again, probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal,” Palamedes said without looking up from his notebook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow raised an eyebrow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was your best execution of ‘ass kissing’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should have made her beg more,” Cam huffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, enough chatter from the peanut factory,” Gideon snapped at both women. “Thanks Sex Pal. So what’s first on the agenda?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to work on power consolidation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “Cool. The fuck does that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes sighed. “We already worked on directing your ability and measuring its strength; now the only major obstacle is keeping your ability to yourself. Consolidating it within your brain so it doesn’t leak out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I can take my glasses off and live normally?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. So you just haven’t been listening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ve said the past few years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I understand you have fears about accidentally singing someone, but once you get the hang of contr—” Sextus caught himself as the word ‘control’ near leaked from his mouth. He cleared his throat and pretended to cough, which obviously didn’t fool Gideon, but she didn’t run off again either. “Once you get the hang of </span>
  <em>
    <span>consolidating</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” he continued, “you’ll be more comfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon stared at her hands, picking at dirt under her nails. She was extremely quiet. “Fine; we’ll try it. I can’t promise anything though.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Harrow returned from Gideon’s training that night with a skull splitting headache. Her job for the arduous, and ultimately useless, three hour session had simply been to stand there and see how long it took Gideon’s power to infect her. Gideon had been trying extremely hard to control herself—evident by her frustrated screaming—but each time it took ten seconds or less to put Harrow under. They’d tried at different distances, but once they were within five feet Harrow was sucked in. Eventually Cam called it a night, saying they’d try again tomorrow with some new theories. Harrow rubbed at her forehead where the throbbing pain was growing, already regretting not finishing some of her work before going down to the gym. Sextus had happily added ‘headaches’ to his list of symptoms to being sung. The term ‘list’ was gracious considering the only other side effect listed was sensory overload. He even made a new chart for long term exposure symptoms, a certain spring in his step as he pestered her about the pain severity. Harrow had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> found the occasion as joyous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her room was dark as usual which eased the headache a bit. The curtains were drawn tight so not even the stars shone through, and her lanterns had long burnt out. She had to make a note to get more oil, but the thought moved through her prefrontal cortex like it was coated in molasses, which wasn’t normal for her. She took a seat at her desk and flipped on the only electric light in her room, which was the black shaded lamp she’d been provided. Harrow had been raised to be a mostly traditional vampire so modern conveniences hadn’t been abundant. She was still getting used to the electric hum of the lights in the classrooms, but, whether by magic or luck, the school received sunlight in copious amounts, so usually the lights were shut off in favor of opening the curtains. Harrow, being both vampire and technological recluse, didn’t know if this was an upgrade or an annoyance. At least she had packed enough robes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow started at the paper in front of her, the math problems swimming before her eyes. She blinked and refocused, watching the numbers writhe under her gaze. She knew her stare was piercing, but this was a bit ridiculous. She put her pencil to the paper and tried to remember what she was writing. What class was this for again? She rubbed her head roughly, digging her nails into her skin, as if she could reset her brain to work right. This wasn’t normal for her. Harrow got up from her desk and paced around the room, scuffing her boots on the wooden floor and kicking at the rug. When she stopped, the room spun momentarily before steadying once more, and a full body exhaustion spread through her like a determined infection. Her muscles protested the slightest movement as she flicked off the lamp, leaving her homework scattered across the desk. She’d do it in the morning when she felt better. She dragged her body to the bed, her bones turning to lead with each step.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes had begun to burn slightly and Harrow knew she should go downstairs and get some medicine or something, but she was incredibly tired and simply wanted to sleep, which wasn’t normal at all. She flopped onto her bed, curling up on top of the covers fully clothed, and dozed off to the beating of her heart behind her eyes. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Gideon stood outside the vampire’s door awkwardly debating whether to knock or not. Harrow had been in a lot of pain after leaving training, and Gideon was hoping offering herself as a midnight snack would ease some of Harrow’s headache. She wasn’t completely sure how vampire healing worked, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> always felt better after eating her favorite food so maybe it was the same for vampires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a deep breath of courage, Gideon knocked. No response. She knocked again, beating louder on the wood. “Harrow, wake up! I’m here if you’re hungry! Wow, that sounds really weird out loud.” There wasn’t even a laugh from behind the door. Gideon knocked again. Harrow wasn’t really into sleeping, so she should be up, unless that headache had been worse than she’d let on. God, Gideon felt like absolute shit. “Harrow!” Gideon looked at the doorknob, wondering how painfully Harrow would murder her if she walked in. She chucked caution to the wind and turned the knob, pushing the door open gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was blacker than the night’s ass. Gideon blinked, hoping her eyes would adjust quickly. How the hell did Harrow live like this? Vampires were nuts. She glanced around in the slowly brightening abyss, looking and listening for tell-tale signs of Nonagesimus. “Harrow,” she whispered to the darkness. “Harrow, hey, you left the door unlocked. Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dim lanterns in the hallway illuminated some of the entrance to the room. Gideon could make out the thinning black carpet on the floor and the worn wooden legs of Harrow’s desk, but nothing else. She took a few gentle steps inside, but when no bat came swooping from the rafters nor any shadow lunging at her, Gideon came to the conclusion Harrow was probably not in the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Gideon spun around, a thousand apologies about to burst from her mouth, but none came out when she realized it wasn’t Harrow standing expectantly in the doorway, but Coronabeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, I’m ah—” Gideon stammered, struggling to find an easy explanation. “I was, uh, just looking for Harrow?” The pharaoh cocked her head to the side, obviously not buying the hastily constructed, but not completely false, excuse. Gideon did not want to admit to Corona she was here to be Harrow’s vampire desert; it felt like such a private matter that telling anyone, least of all the blabbermouth mummy, would feel incredibly exposing. Speaking of incredibly exposing, she had to admit, Corona looked stunning in her sheer nightclothes, and with an oil lamp in one hand she was a portrait of gorgeous yet captivating royalty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corona raised said lamp a bit to illuminate more of the room and said, “What in Ra’s name is that mass on her bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon turned to see the dusty illumination of a pile of black on Harrow’s rumpled sheets. Both women moved closer, Corona’s lamp shedding light on the object. It was clearly Harrow’s robe thrown over another mass. Gideon pulled back the fabric and jumped from the shock of seeing Harrow’s body laying curled on her side like a wounded animal. Her chest wasn’t moving, which wasn’t too concerning considering Gideon was used to creatures who didn’t need to breathe oxygen, but her neck was awkwardly bent into her pillow which looked horrific. “Is she dead?” Corona whispered, making Gideon, who had forgotten she was right beside her, jump once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Gideon answered. “She’s probably just in a really deep sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why does her neck look like that?” Corona said disdainfully. “That cannot be comfortable.” She handed Gideon the lantern and put her beautiful hands—still covered in rings and gold chains Gideon noted—on Harrow’s head and twisted her neck back to a more normal resting position. Then Corona screamed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon, who was distracted by shiny things way too easily for her own liking, focused her attention off Corona’s hands and onto Harrow. Harrow, whose eyes were wide open like a deer caught in headlights while her body remained motionless. Harrow, whose normally pitch black eyes had been hideously replaced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow, whose irises were now corpse white. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon screamed too, dropping the lantern to the floor. The glass shattered but in a lucky break the flame went out before it could touch the carpet. The smell of oil scented with frankincense leaked into the air as Gideon’s mind raced as to what to do. Where the hell were those nerds when you needed them?!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to get her to Abigail,” said Corona, suddenly the voice of reason. “She’ll know what to do, right? Didn’t she live with that vamp convent in Belarus? Maybe this is something she’s seen?” Corona was breathing quickly, running her hands through her fluffy golden curls expressively. Gideon nodded dumbly, transfixed by Harrow’s dead white stare. “Gideon, pick her up!” Corona’s order sent a shock through her system, and Gideon’s body sprung into action. She lifted Harrow as carefully as possible off the bed, kicked aside the still leaking lamp, and followed Corona down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one else was up at this hour to see them practically fly down the stairs and around the circular halls to Abigail Pent’s office. The witch was both healer and disciplinarian at Canaan with her kind demeanor, sharp mind, and immense witchcraft abilities. If anyone would know what to do for Harrow, it would be her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two women and their comatose vampire skidded to a stop in front of the carved marble and wood door. Corona pounded on it, whispering under her breath something that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>please. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hang on! Hang on!” Came a loud voice from inside. It was Magnus. The poor warlock opened the door and stared at them with sleep still lingering in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t noticed their load when he said, “What on Earth do you two want at this hour?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something’s wrong with Harrow!” Gideon nearly thrust the still unmoving vampire at Magnus. Harrow’s limbs jolted from the momentum, but then returned to stillness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Magnus caught a glimpse of Harrow’s eyes, realized the urgency of their situation, and called, “Abby! We have an emergency!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ushered them inside the room, which was just as dark as everywhere else they’d been tonight. Chandeliers filled with orange flames hung in the rafters over their heads, the lights unmoving despite the steam rising from various cauldrons and brewing stands around the room. Abigail Pent came sweeping out of a back room with her brown cape flying spectacularly behind her. The wide glasses and shining brown hair that trademarked the benevolent witch were calming to Gideon whose entire nervous system was firing at full speed. Abigail pointed wordlessly to a cot along the wall and Gideon laid Harrow’s prone form on it. “Did she eat or drink anything?” Abigail asked quickly, grabbing handfuls of glass bottles filled with substances Gideon didn’t even want to know the names of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, she had some blood for dinner and I saw her drink water,” Gideon said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean anything out of the ordinary. Anything she might not have been supposed to eat or drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know! She was just like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Gideon motioned to Harrow’s white eyes and parted lips. Her skin seemed more grey than normal and her lack of breathing was steadily freaking Gideon out more and more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail moved her gently out of the way and kneeled beside Harrow. Gideon backed away to stand beside Corona, body shaking like a leaf tasked with holding up a fat caterpillar. Abigail took Harrow’s pulse incredibly gently, like she was worried one harsh touch would shatter her. “She has a pulse,” she said definitively, making Gideon feel at least a little better. The witch took a small light from her robe and shone it in Harrow’s eyes. She made a small “hm” under her breath before running her hand across Harrow’s grey forehead. “She has no fever. This is something else,” Abigail said cryptically. “What all has she done today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Gideon said intelligently, blanking on literally everything she’d ever seen Harrow do. “Well, uh, she was in class. Every one. And um—um, she had every meal. I don’t know if she ate at each one actually, so scratch that. And uh, then she was helping me train for like three hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail’s head went up at that. “You’re finally training your power?” Gideon nodded, vividly remembering the multiple times she’d run crying to the kind witch and complained about everything and anything to do with her father and her power. Abigail's smile was that of a proud mother whose child had just flipped someone off for the first time, er, well maybe not quite that. Gideon didn’t have much experience in the ‘kind motherly expressions’ area. Gideon’s real mother had so rarely smiled or even said a kind word to her, and when she’d died Gideon had made Abigail her surrogate maternal outlet. A role the sweet woman had accepted readily, and she never failed to be the most supportive, kind, caring, and considerate person in Gideon’s life, even if they so rarely got to spend time together anymore. Right now, Gideon was asking her to be all that and then some as she watched her undo Harrow’s outer robes and begin examining her mouth and ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was anything out of the ordinary with her?” Magnus startled Gideon from her fog, appearing next to her with a handful of leaves and shit. Gideon so rarely saw him do any kind of magic she forgot he was a warlock half the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She, uh had a headache.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail’s eyes narrowed sharply, her classic sign of thinking. “Headache, white irises, grey skin. I think I’ve heard of this before!” She jumped from her position and started pulling books off the floor to ceiling bookshelves along the back wall. The first few were all in pristine condition with gently scrubbed covers and probably Abigail and Magnus’s names written on the inside cover in calligraphy, but the farther back into the recesses of the neverending shelf she went the more worn and ancient the books became. When she finally pulled what she was looking for Gideon wasn’t quite sure it was a book anymore. The cover was gone as was the spine, and the pages were wrinkled and yellowed beyond legibility. String, which looked no better for wear, was tasked with holding the pages together with knots that must have had some magic keeping them in one piece. Abigail, ignoring the perilous condition of the object, started flipping through the pages, eyes darting at lightning speed over the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, hun,” Abigail said in that over the top sweet voice which meant what Gideon was about to be told would drop her right in the shitter. “When you said Harrow was helping you train, do you mean you were using your power </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> her?” Gideon nodded mutely. Abigail stared down at her ancient book again and sighed. She had the same look in her eyes as the day she’d called Gideon out of class to tell her her mother was dead. “An ancient recorded case in Greece had something like this. They called it Siren Poisoning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world could have spun off its axis and crashed ass first into the sun at that exact moment and Gideon would not have noticed nor gave a damn. She was just staring at Abigail, then at the older than dirt book, and lastly, at Harrow’s white eyes and limp body. “What.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail slowly approached her, reaching out a gentle hand and resting it on Gideon’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault hun. This isn’t even a confirmed disease in the ghoul community.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah because no one does any tests on sirens,” Magnus said with more bitterness in his voice than Gideon thought possible. “So many easily preventable scenarios if ghouls just stopped being so scared of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not the time darling,” Abigail said briskly, setting the book down and rushing to gather more vials from her collection. “According to legend, in the 1300’s when sailors would take goods around the world in wooden ships, one of the biggest threats they believed was the siren. Specifically the sirens of Canyon Crossing—Magnus darling please check that our vampire is still alive—a tight and rocky path between two slabs of land which shaved months off an excursion if you made it through. Sailors would throw goods to the sirens, hoping to appease them and gain safe passage. Those who did impress the sirens were pulled in by the song—damn, am I really running this low on bat wings?—and guided through their voices to the exit.” Abigail paused to pull over a rickety ladder so she could reach the higher shelves of her collection. She pulled down a brown paper bag that might as well have contained her lunch, but she grinned beautifully at its witchy contents. “Anyway, where was I?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirens in the crossing,” Corona helpfully supplied from her seat along the wall, avidly fascinated by everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I killed one of my only friends,” Gideon unhelpfully supplied, monumentally fucked by her own doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, please,” Abigail calmly chastised, brushing past to her brewing stand. “After many years of this, three of the most prolific captains, all of which had developed rumored relationships with the sirens in the crossing, dropped dead mysteriously. Many thought it was possession due to their eyes turning white—Magnus keep her airways clear, thank you—but in the end the town decided it was some type of sickness given to them by fraternizing with sirens on a consistent basis for so many years.” A plume of purple smoke rose around Abigail as she tossed handfuls and vialfulls of random substances into the cauldron. She coughed and waved the smoke away, some magic sending it up into the rafters in perfect spirals. “After that, there were other recorded cases of it in seaside towns where sirens were rumored to congregate. Then ghouls began going into hiding and sirens soon followed, leaving most records of it to the ancients. It’s probably some type of brain swelling brought on by exposure to being sung considering the symptoms are all in the limbic system.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I sang Harrow too much and now her brain is going to blow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail smiled her most comforting smile. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She finished whatever she was doing in her cauldron, plucked a drinking glass from a table, and scooped up some of the purple liquid. She added some leaves to it which melted instantly in the mixture. Gideon gagged a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Magnus had been rubbing the front of Harrow’s throat despite her not needing oxygen, keeping her head firmly positioned. Every so often he rested his hand on her head and small yellow sparks fizzled around the skin. “She’s retaining brain function,” he said as his wife approached with the potion. “Her healing abilities are fighting it off rather resiliently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail nodded, swishing the liquid in the glass a bit. “Gideon, how long has Harrow been involved in this training with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon slumped against the wall beside Corona, fully exhausted and feeling like the shittiest garbage to ever shit. “Like every night for a week? Then we didn’t do anything last week and then tonight was close to three hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What Magnus said next was completely meant for his wife’s ears, but Gideon had never been one for privacy, and besides she had incredible siren hearing powers so it wasn’t completely her fault. “It should have been impossible for the poisoning to take hold so soon. Those books claim it took years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those books weren’t dealing with a siren as powerful as Gideon,” Abigail whispered back, kneeling beside him with the cooled potion. “Her ability running unchecked for so long probably amplified the exposure rate. But do not tell her that; the poor thing is already distraught over this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oops. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail tilted Harrow’s head back and did some cool magic stuff to open her mouth. Then the purple liquid was poured down Harrow’s throat, guided by Abigail's glittering hands. When the glass was empty, Magnus rested one solitary green leaf over Harrow’s forehead, whispered in whatever language warlocks and witches used for their spells, then removed it. A gold outline remained where it had laid. Harrow’s eyes slipped closed finally and Gideon nearly shouted with joy when she heard a cough and saw that small body shudder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That will combat the swelling and hopefully her healing ability can drive the rest of the disease out,” Abigail said, standing and dusting off her perfectly clean hands. “She’ll spend the night down here in case anything happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m staying with her,” Gideon said abruptly, surprising herself with a thought she hadn’t realised she’d been thinking about. “This was my fault; I’ll stay with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, you didn’t know,” Corona cooed, putting her arms around Gideon’s shoulders from behind. “This was an accident. And that’s even if this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Siren Poisoning.” Gideon didn’t agree. She shrugged Corona off a bit more briskly than she meant to, but hey she was already the most colossal dick in the history of colossal dicks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail and Magnus sensed she wasn’t taking no for an answer and indicated to another cot perpendicular to where Harrow’s was. “You are welcome to sleep here Gideon, but Corona’s right, this isn’t your fault.” Abigail held out her arms and Gideon readily accepted the hug, falling into the embrace of the only woman who had both loved her and lived. Was she fucking cursed or some shit? Was everyone she cared about destined to die? At least Palamedes could scribble something else in his evil little notebook. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Long Term Side-Effects: Brain fucking explodes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>except with more professional words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corona excused herself for the night, her bare arms covered in goosebumps from standing in the drafty room. She looked as if she were going to say something else, then decided it wasn’t worth it and simply left. Under normal circumstances Gideon would have filed away the image of Corona’s mouth hanging open to use on days when the mummy hadn’t pissed her off, but today was not made of normal circumstances. She sat on the edge of her cot for an unknown amount of time, listening as Abigail cleaned up the mess that had been made of her room. Magnus turned in for the night, needing to fill in for an early morning class or something; Gideon hadn’t been paying much attention. Over the course of the night the books were returned to the shelf, the steam stopped curling out of the cauldron, and the vials were carefully reorganized on their own shelves. When the floor had been swept twice and the chandeliers lowered for dusting, Gideon knew Abigail was stalling for something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to talk to me about what the fuck happened tonight then please just do it,” she said, too tired and depressed to care how much of a bitch she sounded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail sent the chandelier back up to the rafters, hands twitching with gold as she readjusted it perfectly. “I’m not going to force you to talk darling. I’ve never seen you so quiet though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost killed her Abby,” Gideon whined, flopping face first into the cot, ignoring her sunglasses in the way. She was willing the fabric to come to life and choke her to death, but no such luck. “She was trying to help me, she was being nice to me, she wanted to be around me, and I almost killed her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt the bed dip where Abigail sat down on the end. “What would it take for you to believe that this was not your fault?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon mumbled, unmoving from her position, “Nothing. I’ve already made up my mind. I kill everything that tries to live around me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon, that’s a bit extreme.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it though?” She asked, face still in the bed. “Harrow wanted to get to know me and now she’s lying there like a badly animated corpse. My mother was finally expressing some form of affection towards me right before she got pulled up by those humans. My father knows what’s up cause the second she died he decided I just wasn’t worth it anymore until a few months ago when he decided to play father of the year. Not like his child was in a tailspin for all the years he was distant, physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> emotionally I might add, but now that I’m fine he wants to act like that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> accomplishment?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like we just got very off topic,” Abigail said politely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I didn’t because it’s all connected!” Gideon went to sit up fully, but found she actually liked trying to suffocate in the sheets and remained where she was. “Every person in my life disappears in some way—they die or decide I’m not worth it—and it’s my fault!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t left you,” said Abigail, too kind to be offended Gideon hadn’t acknowledged her. “Neither have Palamedes and Camilla. The gorgons you hang around with I don’t know much about but they seem to be constants in your social circle too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sex Pal always says science has its outliers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But those outliers must be accounted for anyways,” said Abigail who was an even bigger nerd than the annoying twit Gideon called a friend. She leaned over and gave the back of Gideon’s head a gentle kiss. “Go to sleep darling. I’m sure this will all look less catastrophic in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon remained head in the pillow until after Abigail’s door had closed and the room had faded into silence. She finally sat up and winced, the new sunglasses she’d convinced Cam to run into town and buy her must have cracked a bone in her face from being smushed into the cot. She removed them, examined them, and was thankful she hadn’t destroyed </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> pair of shades within a week’s time. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> added a bruise to the side of her nose, evident by the soreness when she touched it. That would be fun to explain. She tossed the glasses on the floor and flopped back down, this time staring at the ceiling for a change of view while she was hating herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little ways away, Harrow’s body was regaining some color, as much color as a vampire could regain anyway, and she seemed less stiff than when Corona and Gideon had found her. “I’m so sorry Harrow,” Gideon whispered to the room, hoping the little black demon would wake up and she could say that to her face. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Scales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“—sure you, I am fine,” said the voice that startled Gideon awake. She bolted upright on the cot, expecting it to be some sick guilt dream, but when she knocked her head against a low hanging shelf and cursed at the pain, she knew it was real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrowhark Nonagesimus was awake, and protesting the soup-like substance Abigail was attempting to feed her. “I feel perfectly alright; thank you for your help,” she said again, trying to move away from the determined witch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to rebuild your immune system,” Abigail encouraged, relenting and setting the meal on a nearby table. “Your healing ability took a hit and will need nutrients to regain full strength.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll just have some extra blood later on.” Harrow went to get up but Abigail gently pushed her back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That won’t be enough. Drink the soup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am fine!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your brain swelled and you could have died. Now drink the soup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow scowled at the stubborn woman and took the bowl from the table like a dog taking medicine. She sniffed it, wrinkled her nose, then took an experimental spoonful. Neither her nor Abigail had noticed Gideon’s alertness yet, which she appreciated because right now she was overcome with the urge to cry. Happily of course. Harrow was awake, alive, and as stubborn as always! She’d dodged a massive bullet and owed Magnus and Abigail a favor to rival every other favor to exist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow finally turned her head and took notice of Gideon's presence. Her eyes were a beautiful black once more, and Gideon was sure it would be her favorite color till the end of time. For a second Harrow was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time, wide eyed and jaw a bit open; flattering in any other circumstance. Then her eyes narrowed in deep and thoughtful contemplation, the same way she looked when scrutinizing Mercy’s diagrams. In a final shocking expression, Harrow smiled at her. “I was informed you and Coronabeth found me. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded like the articulate person she was. Harrow’s slightly bitchy voice was the most beautiful sound in the world right now, but she should probably speak instead of sitting there like a moron. “Di-did Abigail um, tell you what happened?” Oh yeah, that was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> topic to start on, thanks brain!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took another spoonful of soup and winced at the taste. Gideon had no clue why; Abigail made incredible food. “You mean why my brain swelled? Yes. She called it Siren Poisoning. An overexposure to a powerful siren’s ability caused my brain to stop working.” Harrow took another sip and Gideon watched her jaw move as she swirled the contents in her mouth. “Sextus will be thrilled to have something new to add to his dismal research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure the fact you almost died will overshadow his joy,” Abigail said with a smile from across the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon got off her cot and sat gingerly on the end of Harrow’s. The vampire’s eyes watched her with cloaked emotion. Gideon didn’t blame her for being scared or angry, but she had to apologize before Harrow threw her out of her life for good. “Harrow,” she began, briefly forgetting how to english, “I’m so sorry about what hap—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ms. Pent already told me you felt bad about this,” Harrow interrupted. “And I’m not blaming you for it either, so don’t you dare apologize to me like this was your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon blinked in her perfectly articulate way. Wait, what? Harrow wasn’t mad at her? “Wait, what?” There went those great communication skills again. “You aren’t mad at me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow looked at her like she’d gouged out one of her eyes and declared herself a cyclops. “Of course I’m not mad at you, idiot! You didn’t know! This isn’t anyone’s fault really; maybe the imbeciles who never recorded symptoms of siren powers, but definitely not you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See Gideon, I told you,” Abigail said in her know-it-all voice. Normally Gideon would pick fun at her for it, but right now her mind was occupied with watching Harrow, searching for a sign the sickness was gone for good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden knocking on the door startled both Harrow and Gideon, but Abigail flicked her wrist to open it like she was expecting someone. Cam and Pal rushed into the room, the teen werewolves Jeannemary and Isaac who Abigail also parented following behind. All four paused in the entrance, staring at Gideon and Harrow like they were apparitions. “Harrow, are you alright?” Palamedes exclaimed, shaking off whatever weird expression had come over him. “Isaac and Jeannemary came up to us at breakfast and explained you were here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breakfast? How long have I been asleep?” Harrow asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one night,” Abigail reassured. “Sorry there’s no windows in here. It does throw off your internal clock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow took some more of the soup, sipping directly from the bowl now. Palamedes and Camilla were staring back and forth between her and Gideon. “Well, are neither of you going to explain what’s going on here?” Camilla asked a bit bitchily. Gideon loved her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought Abigail would explain the medical nerd part of the poisoning, but instead the witch shrugged and said, “I’m not sure. I’m not hearing as much buzzing as I should be. Do you believe the sickness could have had an effect on her as well? Muting her power?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon was a hundred percent fucking lost, until Jeannemary gave a low whistle. “Do all siren eyes glow like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon’s hand flew up to her face which was sans sunglasses. “Fuck! Why didn’t someone tell me?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just did,” said Cam, who was a tool. Gideon scrambled off Harrow’s cot and went to cram her sunglasses back on her face, but Camilla got there first. Instead of handing them over, Cam pulled back. “Wait, something’s going on here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care! Give me back my glasses,” Gideon gritted out without thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cam’s body jolted like she’d been shot, her bolts sparking, and the glasses were pressed into Gideon’s hands instantly. As soon as they were back on her face, Cam’s eyelids fluttered and she massaged the front of her head. “Well,” she said calmly, “I certainly felt it that time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isaac, Jeannemary, go to class,” Abigail ordered, pushing the rowdy teenagers out the door. Their cries of ‘But we want to see’ and ‘Please, this is so cool’ were cut off by the heavy slab of wood and marble being pushed closed right in their faces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they were gone the room fell into a semi-silence, everyone looking at Gideon who was three seconds from having a full meltdown. “See? This is exactly what I mean when I say I can’t take these off,” Gideon mumbled, more self hatred worming its way into the crevices of her heart. Apparently her new thing was hurting her friends. “My power doesn’t stay in check.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it was, briefly,” Palamedes encouraged. “When we walked in your eyes were visible, but there was hardly any buzzing. Your power was staying within you! What were you doing differently?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You felt her power at all?” Harrow asked from the cot, looking a bit miffed she was being left out of the conversation. “She was sitting right in front of me and I didn’t hear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes pulled out his stupid notebook of stupid shit and started scribbling with a stupid pencil shorter than his pinkie. “This is interesting, very interesting,” he stupidly mumbled. “Gideon, do you feel anything different mentally? Anything out of the ordinary? Maybe Abigail’s right about the infection harming you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Incredible self-hatred, but that’s not out of the ordinary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am.” She tried to walk forward and escape this fresh hell of a room, but Palamedes blocked her. When he didn’t move out of her way, Gideon relented if just to end this torment. “No, I didn’t feel anything different. Except for being—” Gideon paused. Would revealing how terrified she was for Harrow freak the vampire out? She didn’t seem to be the emotional touchy-feely type. “Umm.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I was worried about Harrow. A lot. I didn’t even think to put my glasses back on when I woke up because I was just happy she was alive, ya know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate the sentiment, but I can assure you my healing factor would have prevented me from dying,” Harrow said briskly. “I’m not some feeble vampire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon snorted. “Oh please, I could snap you in half with one hand.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you weren’t thinking about your power at all?” Cam interrupted, leaning against the wall and picking at her wrist stitching. “If I remember, you consistently say all you think about is your power. Especially when you have to remove your protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Palamedes, ever the scholar, muttered, ”Thoughts do speak louder than words.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Socrates,” Gideon snapped. “And yeah, I do think about my power a lot. You would too if looking at someone did”—she motioned to Harrow vaguely—“</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow stood now, wobbling a bit on unsteady legs. Gideon reached to grab her but the vampire hissed and swatted her away. “I said, I am fine,” she snapped. “Alright, so the mystery of how she can keep her ability under control is solved. Peachy. (Gideon did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how to keep her ability under control and did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> find everything peachy, but no one was really asking her opinion anymore.) Now why the hell did I not hear anything when she was right in front of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All three of the nerds before them shrugged. “A fluke?” Cam hypothesized. “Gideon, take your glasses off again and try to sing Harrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you fucking nuts?!” Gideon shouted. “I almost killed her!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abigail waved like Giden had maybe forgotten she was there. “Yes, hi. Most powerful witch in the land is sitting right here. If something goes wrong I’m not going to do nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon was very outnumbered and very tired and very hungry, so she had no energy left to fight with her stubborn friends. Harrow was facing her, eyes set in determination. There was a bit of shine to her rich black eyes that could have been excitement, fear, or even some twisted form of lust if Gideon was being generous. Choosing not to explore the emotional complexities of Harrow, Gideon removed her glasses and met the vampire’s eyes with her own. Both girls braced themselves, ready for something to combust or disintegrate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon pushed tentatively, worming her way towards Harrow’s mind. Nothing was happening. Harrow was blinking at her expectantly, and began impatiently tapping her own forearm with a bony finger. “C’mon Gaius, hurry up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, I’m doing it,” Gideon repeated. “I’m pushing on you, but I can’t see your mind. I can’t get in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow’s look of shock was the first readable thing her face had done all morning. “I don’t feel you at all. No buzzing; no silence.” '</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was most definitely silence now as no one in the room spoke. Palamedes wasn’t even writing in his notebook anymore. Their contemplative quiet was disturbed by the muffled voices of the ever nosey werewolves from the other side of the door: “Soooo, is she like </span>
  <em>
    <span>immune</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sirens now?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Harrow sat in her room staring out the open window at the crisp night sky. She’d just gotten back from a nighttime flight and was severely depressed. She’d noticed the lights in the gymnasium were on, and it had confirmed her fears that Sextus, Cam, and Gideon were no longer interested in having her around. Now that her usefulness as a siren victim had been used up, the trio hadn’t mentioned inviting her to any training sessions, which they were clearly doing at this very second. Abigail Pent, self-dubbed witch extraordinaire, had confirmed along with Sextus’s equipment that parts of Harrow’s temporal lobes had been affected by the Siren Poisoning, and were now permanently altered. Altered in the sense she could no longer hear the frequency on which a siren song would come through. On the one hand, being immune to a siren’s song was a great bonus for someone who had slowly become used to having an annoying red headed siren around her, but on the other hand, Harrow’s one reason for permeating the friend group was now null and void. The past week since her near death experience had been awkward and disconcerting with Cam and Sextus acting like nothing was wrong while Gideon visibly flinched whenever Harrow came by. Dulcinea had tried to be a comfort, telling Harrow how Gideon just needed time since it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> the siren’s fault the poisoning had happened. Harrow understood fear, but she didn’t understand Gideon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, if she wanted to corner the slippery siren, she knew where she was now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow threw on her robe and left her room, trotting down to the gym at a faster than normal pace. She got there and was ready to enter with some damn earned anger at being so easily tossed aside, but no one was in there. The lights were on yet the main atrium was empty. The swords were all lined up perfectly along the back wall, oiled and polished, so Cam and Gideon hadn’t even sparred recently. Harrow, feeling rather stupid she’d been tricked by lights, was about to shut the door and leave when she heard—splashing? Yes, splashing. Off to the side, the doors to the natatorium were open and the sounds of water hitting over the edges of the pool came floating out. Harrow approached the doors and peered inside. Someone was swimming laps in the dark turquoise water, a black duffel bag overflowing with clothes sitting safely on the bleachers against the checkerboard wall. There was a telltale pair of sunglasses sitting beside the bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gideon?” Harrow called. The water stopped moving and the head of ginger hair breached the surface. The golden shine of the siren’s eyes illuminated the grey darkness of the room, somehow brighter than normal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Harrow,” Gideon greeted, swimming closer to the edge of the pool where Harrow was. Like a good siren, she appeared to be an exceptionally strong swimmer, barely pumping her arms at all to glide through the water. She bobbed with her shoulders just barely above the surface, red tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead. “What are you doing down here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw the lights on while I was flying and thought you all had finally gotten together without me,” she admitted, looking away reflexively from Gideon’s eyes. She managed to force herself back to looking at the siren and saw the other girl was frowning deeply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We wouldn't do that Nonagesimus,” Gideon said sincerely. “You’ve been part of our group since day one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why have you been ignoring me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon sighed and sank under the water for a second. When she reemerged her hair was slicked back minus one single strand down her forehead. Harrow wanted to push it back with the rest of the orange locks but refrained. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” she said. “I thought I had hurt you, Harrow. I was scared that you didn’t want to be around me anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius, I’m now immune to a siren song because of you, why would I be mad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I almost killed you!” Gideon’s voice echoed through the natatorium, resounding off the walls in a ghostly echo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood there in silence with only the gently rippling water of the pool to listen to. “I don’t blame you, Gideon,” Harrow said. “I wouldn’t do that. And I’m not upset it happened either, but you can’t just run away whenever something bad happens in your life.” The siren didn’t say anything, just bobbed there in the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more seconds of silence passed before Gideon said, “I’m sorry. I try not to run off like that, but I really don’t have any other coping mechanisms. Isolation was the only thing I was ever taught, courtesy of my father.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow nodded, at a loss for what to respond with, and took a seat on the bleachers facing Gideon. The siren returned to swimming laps, moving dark and fast under the surface. The water made her body appear long and distorted. “You never mentioned you swam,” Harrow said, hoping Gideon’s siren hearing could pick up her voice underwater. “I assumed you could, being a siren and all, but you never mentioned enjoying this activity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon popped back up on the other side of the pool. “Well sometimes it’s good to stretch, ya know? You and your wings; me and my tail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow blinked. “Your what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon Gaius reclined back in the water, lifting up her lower body, and where her legs should have been was a red and gold mermaid tail. The scales shone even in the awful natatorium lighting, the gold accents on the edges of each one illuminating the red centers. The fins at the end were blood red and razor sharp, pointing up from the water like daggers. Gideon dropped her tail back under the water and swam over. She put her arms up on the edge of the pool, showing off sharp red fins on each forearm. Her chest and biceps were ridged with gills Harrow hadn’t seen before, and they held dull golden accents similar to her eyes. “You—you have a tail,” Harrow articulated, at a loss for complex words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “I have a tail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Camilla and Palamedes did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> mention you could transform! Are they studying this as well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shook her head. Water droplets cascaded down the sides of her face to pool in her collarbones. “I don’t like them to mention it. I look pretty hideous as a full siren.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you don’t; you look fine,” Harrow blurted out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon blinked at her, big gold eyes glittering. “Harrowhark, are you flirting with me?” She punctuated this with a wink that made Harrow want to retch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not! I'm just saying you aren’t hideous with a tail and gills. That’s not to say I don’t prefer your human for—” Harrow was cut off by Gideon laughing. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Admit it Harrow, you think I’m hot,” the siren grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring her, Harrow got off the bleachers and came closer. She sat criss cross on the edge of the pool, robes spilling out around her like back water. “I’m choosing to ignore you,” she said to Gideon’s exaggerated eyebrow wiggling. “But I would like to see your fins more closely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon kept her self satisfied smirk. “For accurate fantasies?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For scientific curiosity, you moron!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon relented and pulled herself up on the edge of the pool, biceps straining at the motion. Her black bandeau was the only piece of human clothing she had on, the tail taking up the entire lower half of her body. The red and gold scales dissipated into bronze skin the higher up her abdomen Harrow looked. Gideon flicked her fin and splashed Harrow with water, laughing as she hissed. “Stop it.” She smacked the siren’s arm. Harrow poked at the sharp edges of the forearm fins and ran a finger over their rough texture. She gently touched the rippling skin which had become gills, careful not to be too rough. Then she reached forward and ran her hand across the wet scales. They were hard and slimy in texture which made Harrow cringe internally. Gideon didn’t move the whole time, just let her fin bob gently in the water. “Are they always this disgusting?” Harrow asked, washing off her hand in the pool water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon shrugged, reclining back on her hands. “I guess. Water protection and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it hurt to transform?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really? Like, it feels weird and my legs cramp up a lot at first which is uncomfortable. But otherwise no. Does it hurt to turn into a bat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow thought for a few seconds. She’d been doing it for so long she didn’t know if it was uncomfortable. “It might be. My muscles contract and contort as do my bones which may be painful in some way.” They sat there a bit longer, listening to the generators in the room and the buzzing of the electric lights. Harrow kept staring at Gideon’s scales, knowing she’d seen something similar to them somewhere. “Your sword,” her mouth said without input from her cortex. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your sword has a scale on it,” Harrow elaborated, remembering from weeks ago the sight of a red and gold tinged scale on the huge two-hander. “Just like these. Is it one of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon was very still and very silent. Her eyes were drilling holes in the far wall, and her fingers flexed against the wet tiled floor. “It’s not mine.” She offered nothing else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father’s?” Harrow pressed, figuring maybe the Headmaster had the same ability as his daughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Gideon flicked her fin rapidly, like she was internally debating something. “It’s—or it was—my mother’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow nodded slowly. “Dulcinea said she died. I’m very sorry. How did it happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon sighed, “If we’re going to have this conversation, I’d rather be in human form.” She flipped her tail out of the water and up onto the tiles, sending water spraying everywhere. Harrow got up, wrung out her robes, and went to leave to give her privacy. “You’re fine to stay, Harrow,” Gideon said. “I don’t reappear naked or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky,” Harrow said, hating her own transformation’s inability to let her remain clothed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon didn’t seem to be doing anything at first, then Harrow saw the scales. They were dissipating back into her skin, retreating underneath the shining flesh. As more and more of Gideon’s skin became visible the tail split in half, fins shrinking back into human shaped legs. Her shoulders and chest smoothed out and her forearm fins retreated like retractable claws. Harrow noticed the black shorts when Gideon stood up on shaky legs, a few lone scales still vanishing. “It takes a lot longer to turn back to legs,” she admitted, going to her duffel bag and pulling out a towel and clothes. “I can actually jump right into water and bam, tail.” She dried off her body and Harrow now looked away, feeling a lot more perverted watching her in human form. When she turned back Gideon was in sweatpants and a tank top, still showing off her biceps like any self-obsessed attractive person. The siren reflexively reached for her glasses then paused. “Habit,” she said as Harrow took a seat on the bleachers beside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were back to silence, Gideon staring at her hands then the floor. Her eyes weren't as glittery and golden as when she’d been in the water. “She died a few years ago. She was killed by humans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Humans are vile,” Harrow scowled. She’d had her own experiences with humans and their evil ways; it was no surprise they were also ghoul murderers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They really are,” Gideon agreed. “I—I wasn't there, when it happened. My father was though. He told me it was an accident, and not to blame the humans for it. I do though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not wrong,” Harrow encouraged. “You’re allowed to have feelings about things of this nature.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon smiled weakly. “Now you sound like Abigail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow supposed she’d take that as a compliment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Gideon continued, “it happened while I was in school. My parents went into town for something or other and ended up deciding to take a swim in the port. It was a dreary day so no one was out and about. They thought it was safe. Mom loved swimming; she taught me. Being in the pool was our time to just chill. Talk shit about my father and stuff. I don’t know why they stayed together; all they ever did was argue about stupid shit and spend as much time apart as possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like my parents,” Harrow added as Gideon paused. “They always acted like the only reason they were together was for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that tune. That’s a pretty sucky feeling, huh? Anyway, according to my father, while they were swimming a fishing boat was coming into port. They were dragging some huge net to grab fish and stuff, and—” She paused, and Harrow noticed her eyes were glistening. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this scenario, so she tentatively reached over and set her hand on Gideon’s arm. This seemed to bring the siren back and she blinked a few times to regain herself. “They caught her,” she finished. “They caught her in the net and pulled her up. She couldn’t turn back in time and five fishermen saw her tail. My father hid under the pier; he said he was scared. They tried to bring her on board, laughing about how they caught a mermaid. She wasn’t a strong enough singer to make all five forget this, and even if she had sung them into letting her escape they’d have eventually recovered and gone looking. The school wasn’t safe if humans found out ghouls were living among them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon didn’t continue. “So what did she do?” Harrow prompted, which was probably cruel in some way, but she was curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She sang the captain of the boat, made him crash into a big docked ship. The engine blew and both ships went up in flames. Everyone died. My father swam through the wreckage for hours looking for anything left of her, hoping she had gotten out of the net in time. All he found were a few scales, some hair, and the necklace she always wore. It was melted a bit so he assumed her body was charred up somewhere at the bottom of the port. ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A necklace?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “Yeah, she had a locket filled with the blood of a human she fell in love with long long </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> before meeting my father. Some woman named Eden; I guess she didn’t want to be a siren.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow struggled, much to her chagrin, to put those pieces of evidence together. “I’m sorry, what does that </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit, right yeah other ghouls don’t know much about sirens. Um, well, in layman’s terms, sirens are technically ageless unless they’re killed or whatever. So like, as long as I don’t get stabbed through the gut or something similar, I won’t age past like my mid 20’s for all eternity. If I wanted a human to be a siren—well it’s similar to how vampires can bite someone and turn them into a vampire; sirens kill and do magic stuff to people we want to make sirens. There’s a bunch of rules with it or whatever. Has to be in water, have to be singing them, blah blah. Anyway, Eden didn’t want to be a siren so she lived a normal human life while my mom remained ageless. And when she died my mom kept the blood as a memento.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirens and vampires have a lot more in common ability wise than I previously thought,” Harrow admitted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “Yeah, I guess. We also both used to eat humans. Vampires took blood and sirens were all about consuming the soul and flesh or something equally creepy and fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow shuddered at the memory of stories she’d been told of killer sirens and their appetites for living flesh. “Thankfully most ghouls have evolved beyond such primitive natures.” She looked directly at Gideon. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have any cravings for souls or flesh, Harrow,” Gideon snapped. “My mother used to, but I don’t think my father ever did. He never talked about doing stuff like that at least.” Gideon sucked in a huge breath and hung her head back, making her neck crack. “Anyway, long story made way too long, it's bad luck to bury a siren on land so we never went looking for the rest of her, but my father hung around the crime scene to make sure the emergency crews never found her either. They didn’t. He was gone a lot, right when I needed a parent the most, so father of the year right there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow had nothing left to say to Gideon’s story. No words could express the thoughts she was having. She felt awful for the siren, but emotional comfort had never been her strong suit, so Harrow just sat there with one hand resting against Gideon, hoping she was doing enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it’s weird to keep a scale since it was literally a part of her body,” Gideon continued out of nowhere a minute later. “But I needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to remember her by, and I figured my sword was the best way to memorialize her, even if she wasn’t a fan of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m very sorry,” Harrow managed to say. “I’ve had my own awful experiences with humans; I understand the pain they inflict.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gideon looked at her finally, eyes searing through her even without siren powers. “What happened to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow didn’t remember much of the attack that had prompted her parents to send her to Canaan High, just being shoved down in an alley while people from the corners of her vision kicked and hit like she was a punching bag. She remembered the burn of the garlic as it was shoved in her mouth. She remembered the way her flesh was seared open by makeshift stakes. The voices laughed and joked, thinking they were beating up some goth kid covered in ancient robes and not a real vampire. Her parents had blamed her of course, saying she should have been more vigilant while walking back from the square. She believed them. “I let myself be noticed and then jumped by a group of teenage humans,” she said. “They thought I was just some weird kid who dressed like a vampire, so they roughed me up, shoved garlic in my face, and one stabbed my arm with a pencil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when do vampires have a pencil allergy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harrow looked at her with her best </span>
  <em>
    <span>you stupid fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>face. “Wooden stakes, idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright alright, no need for name calling. I just didn’t put two and two together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My parents sent me here after that,” Harrow continued. “They realized it wasn’t safe for me to keep going out of the community, but I couldn’t stay isolated forever. So here I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, Gideon put her arm over Harrow’s shoulders and slid closer until their hips bumped. Harrow cringed at first from the contact, but when Gideon didn’t move she decided it wasn’t worth fighting. “It wasn’t your fault, Harrow,” she said gently. “Humans just really </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> suck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonderful words of wisdom, Gaius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two sat there in the natatorium for a bit longer, listening to the generators clean the pool. Harrow felt a bit better after talking to Gideon about her fears towards humans. It felt even nicer to know the siren had a similar disposition. And, as much as she did not want to admit to such a primitive feeling, it was extremely nice having Gideon Gaius’s arm around her. </span>
</p>
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